Digital Paint Discussion Board
Digital Paint Community => Other Stuff => Topic started by: KnacK on March 05, 2007, 12:51:14 PM
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Two very elderly friends, PiCaSSo and S8NSSON, met in the park every day to feed the n00bs, watch the h4x0rz and discuss forum problems. One day S8NSSON didn't show up; PiCaSSo didn't think much about it, figured maybe he had a cold or some such.
But after S8NSSON hadn't shown up for a week or so, PiCaSSo really got worried. However, the only time they ever got together anymore (they used to play a lot of golf together) was at the park, and PiCaSSo couldn't remember where S8NSSON lived, so he was unable to find out what had happened to him.
A month passed, and PiCaSSo figured old S8NSSON had gone to his heavenly reward, but one day PiCaSSo approached the park and, lo and behold, there sat S8NSSON ! PiCaSSo was very excited and happy to see him and told him so! Then he said, "For crying out loud S8NSSON, what happened to you???" S8NSSON replied, "I have been in jail."
"Jail???," cried PiCaSSo!! "What in the world for???" "Well," S8NSSON said, "You know Ashley, that cute little blonde waitress at the coffee shop where we sometimes get coffee?" Yeah" said PiCaSSo, "I remember her. What about her?"
"Well one day last month she got mad at me, and to get even, she charged me with rape. I was so proud of what everyone would think an old fart like me could still do, that when I got into court, I pled 'Guilty'.
The judge then took a good look at me and gave me 30 days for perjury."
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Haha, that's good. How about this one:
KnacK and PiCaSSo were chatting one day when PiCaSSo exclaimed, "What in the world is that sticking out of your right ear?" KnacK, with a puzzled look, said, "I don't know", and reached up pulling out the object, then exclaimed, "My word, a suppository!" Then he slapped his forehead and excitedly declared, "Now I know what I did with my hearing aid."
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eh?????
:p
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Bwahahaha!!!
Hey Knack, this might help: Google (http://www.google.com/search?sourceid=navclient-ff&ie=UTF-8&rlz=1B2GGGL_enUS207US207&q=define%3Asuppository). :P
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Haha, that's good. How about this one:
KnacK and PiCaSSo were chatting one day when PiCaSSo exclaimed, "What in the world is that sticking out of your right ear?" KnacK, with a puzzled look, said, "I don't know", and reached up pulling out the object, then exclaimed, "My word, a suppository!" Then he slapped his forehead and excitedly declared, "Now I know what I did with my hearing aid."
It'd probably melt in there, most of them are wax-based.
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hahah
good one
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It'd probably melt in there
The hearing aid or the suppository? Haha.
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BOTH. Actually, suppository. :P
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Problem Name
The famous Olympic skier Picabo Street (pronounced Peek-A-Boo) is not just an athlete.... She is now a nurse currently working at the Intensive Care Unit of a large metropolitan hospital. She is not permitted to answer the hospital telephones. It caused too much confusion when she would answer the phone and say,
Picabo, ICU.
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Ouch. That one hurt.
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The joke or my new avatar?
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A woman went to a K-Mart service counter and told the clerk she wanted a refund for the toaster she bought because it won't work. The clerk told her that he can't give her a refund because she bought it on special.
Suddenly, the woman threw her arms up in the air and started screaming,
" PINCH MY NIPPLES,
PINCH MY NIPPLES,
PINCH MY NIPPLES ! ! ! "
The befuddled clerk ran away to get the store manager in front of a growing crowd of customers.
The manager comes to the woman and asks,"Ma'am what's wrong ?" She explained the problem with the toaster, and he also told her that he can't give her a refund because she bought it on special.
Once again, the woman throws her arms up in the air and screamed,
" PINCH MY NIPPLES,
PINCH MY NIPPLES,
PINCH MY NIPPLES ! ! ! "
and doing so draws an even bigger crowd !
In shock, the store manager pleads, "Ma'am, why are you saying that?"
In a huff, the woman says,
" BECAUSE, I LIKE TO HAVE
MY NIPPLES PINCHED
WHEN I'M BEING SCREWED ! ! !"
The crowd broke into applause and her money was quickly refunded ! ! !
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Uhhhh...
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Wow... KnacK. I like that but i prefer Jitspoe's suppository story..... Nice try...
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Little Bruce and Jenny are only 10 years old, but they just know that they are in love. One day they decide that they want to get married, so Bruce goes to Jenny's father to ask him for her hand.
Bruce bravely walks up to him and says "Mr. Smith, me and Jenny are in love and I want to ask you for her hand in marriage."
Thinking that this was just the cutest thing, Mr. Smith replies, "Well Bruce, you are only 10. Where will you two live?"
Without even taking a moment to think about it, Bruce replies "In Jenny's room. It's bigger than mine and we can both fit there nicely."
Still thinking this is just adorable, Mr. Smith says with a huge grin, "Okay then how will you live? You're not old enough to get a job. You'll need to support Jenny."
Again, Bruce instantly replies, "Our allowance .. Jenny makes 5 bucks a week and I make 10 bucks a week That's about 60 bucks a Month and that should do us just fine."
By this time Mr. Smith is a little shocked that Bruce has put so much thought into this. He thinks for a moment trying to come up With something that Bruce won't have an answer to.
After a second, Mr. Smith says, "Well Bruce, it seems like you have got everything all figured out. I just have one more question for you. What will you do if the two of you should have little
ones of your own?"
Bruce just shrugs his shoulders and says "Well, we've been lucky so far."
Mr. Smith no longer thinks the little excrement is adorable!
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LOL !!!!!!! Omg... That one is cool. I should try to write one but my best one are in french :S loll If you guys want to try to understand a real joke from quebec just tell me :P
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Ah, where's Fembot when you need his "Quebec is screwed" alias?
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Are you a Democrat, Republican or Southerner?
Here is a little test that will help you decide.
The answer can be found by posing the following question:
You're walking down a deserted street with your wife and two small children. Suddenly, an Islamic Terrorist with a huge knife comes around the corner, locks eyes with you, screams obscenities, praises Allah, raises the knife, and charges at you. You are carrying a Glock cal 40, and you are an expert shot. You have mere seconds before he reaches you and your family.
What do you do?
...................................................................
Democrat's Answer:
Well, that's not enough information to answer the question!
Does the man look poor or oppressed?
Have I ever done anything to him that would inspire him to attack?
Could we run away?
What does my wife think?
What about the kids?
Could I possibly swing the gun like a club and knock the knife out of his hand?
What does the law say about this situation?
Does the Glock have appropriate safety built into it?
Why am I carrying a loaded gun anyway, and what kind of message does this send to society and to my children?
Is it possible he'd be happy with just killing me?
Does he definitely want to kill me, or would he be content just to wound me?
If I were to grab his knees and hold on, could my family get away while he was stabbing me?
Should I call 9-1-1?
Why is this street so deserted?
We need to raise taxes, have paint and weed day and make this happier, healthier street that would discourage such behavior.
This is all so confusing! I need to debate this with some friends for few days and try to come to a consensus.
..................................................................
Republican's Answer:
BANG!
..................................................................
Southerner's Answer:
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
BANG! Click..... (Sounds of reloading)
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
BANG! Click
Daughter: "Nice grouping, Daddy! Were those the Winchester Silver Tips or Hollow Points?"
Son: "Can I shoot the next one!"
Wife: "You ain't taking that to the Taxidermist!"
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I laugh every time I read that joke.
BANG BANG BANG BANG CLICK ( reload) BANG BANG BANG.....
Funny as I have a glock in 40 cal.
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Things I Learned in Texas
Armadillos sleep in the middle of the road with all four feet in
the air.
There are 5,000 types of snakes and 4,998 live in Texas .
There are 10,000 types of spiders. All 10,000 live in Texas,
plus a few no one has ever seen before.
Raccoons will test your melon crop, and let you know when they
are ripe.
If it grows, it will stick you. If it crawls, it will bite you!
Nothing will kill a mesquite tree...nothing.
There are valid reasons why some people put razor wire around their
house.
A tractor is NOT an all terrain vehicle. They do get stuck.
The wind blows at 90 mph from Oct 2 till June 25; then it stops
totally until October 2. (unless there's a hurricane)
Onced and twiced are words.
Coldbeer is one word and is pronounced "coalbare.
People actually grow and eat okra. (shut up, it's good)
Green grass DOES burn.
When you live in the country you don't have to buy a dog. City
people drop them off at your front gate in the middle of the night.
The sound of coyotes howling at night only sounds good for the
first few weeks.
When a buzzard sits on the fence and stares at you, it's time to
see a doctor. Buzzards are known as "Texas Turkeys"
Fixing to is one word and is pronounced "fittin-tah"
There ain't no such thing as "lunch". There is only breakfast,
dinner and then there's supper.
"Sweetened ice tea" is appropriate for all meals, and you start
drinking it when you are two. You also give it to babies for
colic..Just a tid-bit. (and it's called Sweettea, one word. Iced is presumed)
"Backwards and forwards" means I know everything about you...and actually
you pronounce it "backards" and "forads".
"Jeet?" is actually a phrase meaning, "Did you eat?"
You don't have to wear a watch because it doesn't matter what
time it is. You work until you're done, or it's too dark to see.
You measure distance in minutes or hours.
You can switch from "heat" to "A/C" in the same day.
Stores don't have bags. They have sacks.
You see cars with the engine running in the Wal-mart parking lot
with no one in them, no matter what time of the year. (cause they's
comin ratback)
All the festivals across the state are named after a fruit or a
vegetable. (not true, there's rattlesnake fest, mosquito fest, catfish fest,
crawfish fest, and so on. some yankee musta wrote this one)
You install security lights on your house and garage, and leave
both unlocked.
You carry jumper cables for your own car.
You know what "cow tipping" and "snipe hunting" are.
You only have four spices in your kitchen: Salt, Pepper,
Ketchup, and Tabasco .. (cause they's good on snipes)
You think everyone from north of Dallas has an accent.
The local papers cover national and international news on one
page, but require six pages to cover Friday night high school football.
The first day of deer season is a state holiday.
You find 100 degrees a "tad" warm.
The four seasons are: Almost summer, summer, still summer and
Christmas.
You know whether another Texan is from East, West, North, or
South Texas as soon as he opens his mouth.
Going to Wal-mart is a favorite past-time known as "goin
Wal-Martin" or "off to Wally-world"... (or Target, pronounced Tar-jay to
make it sound Franch)
You describe the first cool snap (below 70 degrees) as good
chili-eatin' weather (and people light up the farplace)
A carbonated soft drink isn't a soda, cola, or pop....It's a
Coke regardless of brand or flavor. (cause "pop" is yer daddy)
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you know, as a fellow Texan, I just realised that all of that is true. That's scary. What's worse is, I know someone who fits into almost every one of those descriptions. Hilarious stuff knack, got a giggle out of me. (=
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".. hold my b33r and watch this..."
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The Bacon Tree
Two Mexicans are stuck in the desert, wandering aimlessly and close to death.
They are close to just lying down and waiting for the inevitable, when all of a sudden.......
"Hey Pepe, do you smell what I smell?
Ees bacon I ahm sure of eet."
"Si, Luis eet smells like bacon to meee".
So, with renewed strength, they struggle up the next sand dune, and there, in the distance, is a tree loaded with bacon.
There's raw bacon, dripping with moisture...
There's fried bacon, back bacon, double smoked bacon...every imaginable kind of cured pig meat.
"Pepe, Pepe, we ees saved! Eet EES a bacon tree!"
"Luis, are you sure ees not a meerage?
We ees in the Desert don't forget."
"Pepe when deed you ever hear of a meerage that smeell like
bacon...ees no meerage, ees a bacon tree".
And with that ...Luis races toward the tree.
He gets to within 5 meters, with Pepe following closely behind, when all of a sudden a machine gun opens up and Luis is cut down in his tracks.
It is clear he is mortally wounded but, true friend that he is, he
manages to warn Pepe with his dying breath.
"Pepe...go back man,you was right...ees not a bacon tree."
"Luis Luis, mi amigo...what ees it?
"Pepe...ees not a bacon tree...
Ees..........
Ees...
Ees.........
Ees....
... Eees a Ham Bush
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hahaha nice one knackers! :P
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Oww. That went beyond a groaner. That was a groiner. I feel like I've been hit in the nuts.
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:(
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There was a midget down in Texas who complained to his buddy that his testicles ached almost all the time. As he was always complaining about his problem, his friend finally suggested that he go to the doctor to see what could be done to relieve the problem.
The midget took his advice and went to the doctor and told him what the problem was. The doctor told him to drop his pants and he would have a look. The midget dropped his pants. The doctor put him up onto the examining table, and started to examine him.
The doc put one finger under his left testicle and told the midget to turn his head and cough-the usual method to check for a hernia.
"Aha!" mumbled the doc and putting his finger under the right testicle, he asked the midget to cough again.
"Aha!" said the doctor and reached for his surgical scissors. Snip, snip, snip, snip on the right side then snip, snip, snip, snip, snip, snip, snip on the left side.
The midget was so scared he was afraid to look, but noted with amazement that the snipping did not hurt. The doctor then told the midget to get dressed and see if they still ached.
The midget was absolutely delighted as he walked around the doc's office and discovered his testicles were no longer aching. "Gee, what did you do, Doc?" he asked.
The doc replied, "I cut two inches off the tops of your cowboy boots."
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"Jeet?" is actually a phrase meaning, "Did you eat?"
lol
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"Jeet?" is actually a phrase meaning, "Did you eat?"
You make'n fun of me boy?
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The TRUTH about the arrow shaped cursor on your desktop!!!
The Japanese have finally revealed a mystery for you.
How does the small arrow on your computer monitor work when we move the mouse?
Haven't you ever wondered how it works?
Now, through the miracle of high technology, we can see how it is done.
With the aid of a screen magnifying lens, the mechanism becomes apparent.
Click on the link below and you will find out. The image may take a minute or two to download and when it appears, slowly move your mouse over the light gray circle and you will see how the magic works.
http://www.1-click.jp/
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Knack must have started working on that joke 20 days ago, shortly after the previous joke he posted, considering how long that took to download on broadband.
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took a day and a half on dialup!
On a side note - you just disabled karma again.
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Little Bruce and Jenny are only 10 years old, but they just know that they are in love. One day they decide that they want to get married, so Bruce goes to Jenny's father to ask him for her hand.
Bruce bravely walks up to him and says "Mr. Smith, me and Jenny are in love and I want to ask you for her hand in marriage."
Thinking that this was just the cutest thing, Mr. Smith replies, "Well Bruce, you are only 10. Where will you two live?"
Without even taking a moment to think about it, Bruce replies "In Jenny's room. It's bigger than mine and we can both fit there nicely."
Still thinking this is just adorable, Mr. Smith says with a huge grin, "Okay then how will you live? You're not old enough to get a job. You'll need to support Jenny."
Again, Bruce instantly replies, "Our allowance .. Jenny makes 5 bucks a week and I make 10 bucks a week That's about 60 bucks a Month and that should do us just fine."
By this time Mr. Smith is a little shocked that Bruce has put so much thought into this. He thinks for a moment trying to come up With something that Bruce won't have an answer to.
After a second, Mr. Smith says, "Well Bruce, it seems like you have got everything all figured out. I just have one more question for you. What will you do if the two of you should have little
ones of your own?"
Bruce just shrugs his shoulders and says "Well, we've been lucky so far."
Mr. Smith no longer thinks the little excrement is adorable!
Heh - reminds me of this one:
Little Johnny came running into the house and asked, "Mommy, can little girls have babies?"
"No," said his mom, "Of course not."
Little Johnny then ran back outside and his mom heard him yell to his friends, "It's okay, we can play that game again!"
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If you are sitting next to some stranger who irritates you on a plane, train
or bus ...
1. Quietly and calmly open up your laptop case.
2. Remove your laptop.
3. Boot it.
4. Make sure the guy who won't leave you alone can see the screen.
5. Close your eyes and tilt your head up to the sky.
6. Then hit this link:
http://www.thecleverest.com/countdown.swf
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lol
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LMFAO, you could get arrested for that
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Air Traffic Controller's Funniest Quotes:
http://www.businessballs.com/airtrafficcontrollersfunnyquotes.htm
Allegedly the German air controllers at Frankfurt Airport are renowned as a short-tempered lot. They, it is alleged, not only expect one to know one's gate parking location, but how to get there without any assistance from them. So it was with some amusement that we (a Pan Am 747) listened to the following exchange between Frankfurt ground control and a British Airways 747, call sign Speedbird 206.
Speedbird 206: "Frankfurt, Speedbird 206 clear of active runway."
Ground: "Speedbird 206. Taxi to gate Alpha One-Seven." The BA 747 pulled onto the main taxiway and slowed to a stop.
Ground: "Speedbird, do you not know where you are going?"
Speedbird 206: "Stand by, Ground, I'm looking up our gate location now."
Ground (with quite arrogant impatience): "Speedbird 206, have you not been to Frankfurt before?"
Speedbird 206 (coolly): "Yes, twice in 1944, but it was dark,... and I didn't land."
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regarding "Things I learned in Texas":
funny, but that's hardly true everywhere in the state.
The wind blows at 90 mph from Oct 2 till June 25; then it stops
totally until October 2. (unless there's a hurricane)
since when?
Onced and twiced are words.
never heard them.
Buzzards are known as "Texas Turkeys"
naw. they's buzzards.
There ain't no such thing as "lunch". There is only breakfast,
dinner and then there's supper.
to me, the meals are breakfast, lunch, and supper, and the biggest meal could be referred to as dinner.
You don't have to wear a watch because it doesn't matter what
time it is. You work until you're done, or it's too dark to see.
not true for me. i love my atomic watch.
Stores don't have bags. They have sacks.
i think this is changing by the generation. i don't say sack, but my dad probably would.
You carry jumper cables for your own car.
TRUE.
The local papers cover national and international news on one
page, but require six pages to cover Friday night high school football.
that's exaggerated, but TRUE in principle.
You find 100 degrees a "tad" warm.
no, i absolutely hate it.
The four seasons are: Almost summer, summer, still summer and
Christmas.
TRUE.
A carbonated soft drink isn't a soda, cola, or pop....It's a
Coke regardless of brand or flavor. (cause "pop" is yer daddy)
true, we don't say soda, cola, or pop, but I personally mean Coke if I say Coke. generically, i'd probably say soft drink.
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A teacher was doing a study testing the senses (taste) of first
graders using a bowl of lifesavers.
The children began to say:
Red......................Cherry
Yellow................Lemon
Green...................Lime
Orange.................Orange
Finally the teacher gave them all HONEY lifesavers. After eating
them, none of the children could identify the taste.
"Well," she said, "I will give you all a clue. It's what your
mother may sometimes call your father."
One little girl looked up in horror, spit her lifesaver out
and yelled, "Oh, my God!! They're a$$-holes!"
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LOLlolLOLroflroflrofl
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its a 97 degree day and a guy walks into a "happy" bar (not knowing it is) and goes man its a hot day and wow im thirsty. the bartender goes well i can help you there what would you have ?.. the guy goes sarcastically: man its so hot i would drink the sweat from a cows nutsack.. next thing you know you hear a moooo come out of the corner of the bar.
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heres some more:)
"hey buddy hear out in alabama they are gonna quit having ice?""why no i dint hear that why wat happened?""well the guy with the recipe is retireing!".
-you know why midgets are always smiling when they run?
no why?
- the grass is tickling their ass
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If you are sitting next to some stranger who irritates you on a plane, train
or bus ...
1. Quietly and calmly open up your laptop case.
2. Remove your laptop.
3. Boot it.
4. Make sure the guy who won't leave you alone can see the screen.
5. Close your eyes and tilt your head up to the sky.
6. Then hit this link:
http://www.thecleverest.com/countdown.swf
I wanted to do this so bad on the airplane a few days ago, but alas, y00tz is a pansy.
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FIVE RULES FOR MEN TO FOLLOW TO A HAPPY LIFE
1. It's important to have a woman, who helps at home,
who cooks from time to time, cleans up and has a job.
2. It's important to have a woman, who can make
you laugh.
3. It's important to have a woman, who you can
trust and who doesn't lie to you.
4. It's important to have a woman, who is good in
bed and who likes to be with you.
5. It's very, very important that these four women
do not know each other.
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FIVE RULES FOR MEN TO FOLLOW TO A HAPPY LIFE
1. It's important to have a woman, who helps at home,
who cooks from time to time, cleans up and has a job.
2. It's important to have a woman, who can make
you laugh.
3. It's important to have a woman, who you can
trust and who doesn't lie to you.
4. It's important to have a woman, who is good in
bed and who likes to be with you.
5. It's very, very important that these four women
do not know each other.
Hahaha :D :D :D
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The good thing about the New Year is that past differences are put behind oneself and the year's started with a clean slate. Everything's that little bit nicer and you get the feeling that in some small way you're contributing to the ongoing goodwill of the workplace. True, my attempts and maintaining a positive outlook in previous years have failed dismally but this time I'll really give it a go...
>Ring ring<
"Hi, you're talking with KnacK from Systems and Networks!" I gush cheerfully.
"Why's my machine running so slow?" the user asks, skipping the social niceties.
Detecting the subtle undertones of a problem I decide - in the spirit of geeky glasnost - to do my best to help.
"What do you mean by slow?" I ask. "Does it take a long time to wake up, or is it slow all the time?"
"It's just slow. It was fine yesterday but it's slow today," he replies.
I... can do this!
On attempting to access the machine I notice that it IS taking an exceptional amount of time to connect - and when it does the data rate's similar to that of remote desktop over acoustic coupler...
"You're not... doing anything on the network are you?"
"No."
"Not browsing or downloading anything?"
"No."
"Well I've connected to your machine and can't see anything TOO unusual running."
"You connected to my machine?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Remote administration."
"But you don't know my password?"
"But I do know the Domain administrator password - and your machine is a member of the Domain."
"But it's my machine - surely you need to get my permission first?"
I feel the stirring of the Dark side, but suppress it quickly!!
"TECHNICALLY it's the COMPANY'S machine, and I was accessing it in the resolution of your problem, not out of idle curiosity."
"Oh, I see. Well what happens now?"
"I'll just have a closer look at the network traffic to check on a couple of processes..."
>clickety<
"Ah."
"Yes?" the user asks.
"Get an iPod for Christmas did you?"
"Yyyess, why?"
"And you loaded all the music off your home machine into it?"
"Yes."
"And then you copied all the music onto your desktop?"
"Well, yes - I want to save the battery for commuting."
"Uhuh. And then you told all your workmates about the 30 gig of music you'd just put into a public share on your desktop?"
"Oh one of them wanted to get a copy of one of the songs I..."
"About 20 of them are currently getting copies of all your songs."
"Oh."
"Yes, and the added impact would be the backup you're running. Why'd you be backing up your music to the backup server?"
"Oh, in case I lose it!!!"
"So you're worried about it being lost from your desktop machine?"
"Yes."
"When you could put it all back from your iPod - or failing that off your home machine via your iPod - or failing that your fellow worker's machines - or failing that the original media - or the backup DVDs you've probably written at home?"
"Yeah, but that's a hassle."
nnnnngggg!
"I see, well I don't think there's a lot of help I can give you apart from >clickety< cancelling your backup session and >clickety< removing your ability to share files. Has that helped?"
"I... suppose so."
"Ok, anything else I can help you with?" I ask, thinking nice New Year thoughts.
"I... Could you increase my mailbox quota limit?"
"Uhhh, Sure, I think we can do that. How much to you think you'll need?"
"Well I'd like about 10 gig if I can?"
"10 gig, that's a lot of space - are you sure you're going to need it all?"
"I think so. I want to send all my other MP3s that don't fit on my iPod to my work account so that I can listen to them here."
"And you've got 10 gig of files to put through our mail system?" I ask, squeezing my mouse in a non-approved manner.
"Yeah. But I also thought that if they were in my mailbox I could play them when I went to an internet cafe or something just by calling up the mailserver..."
Nnnnnggggggggggggg! Can't... suppress... the... anger... Can't... stop... the... voices.....
"I'll call you back" I blurt, slamming down the phone. "How long was that?"
"Uuh... seventeen minutes" the PFY says, looking up at the clock.
"Seventeen minutes. And what did I manage last year?"
"Fourteen - although you timed it from when you entered the building last time, so it was probably more like 10."
"So I'm 50 per cent better?"
"You would have been if you hadn't deleted all his music files and uploaded the faulty BIOS to his iPod rendering it useless."
"I didn't!"
"Yeah, but it was only a matter of time so I just cut out the middle man and did it for you."
"Oh. Ah well, better luck next year!"
"Two steps forward, one step back and all that," the PFY responds helpfully. "Now how's about shutting down the mail server and taking an extended morning tea?"
"As far as plans go, it's a scorcher!!"
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http://www.theregister.co.uk/2006/01/06/bofh_2006_episode_1/
:D :D <3
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I just found out about BOFH!!
/me is going to have to block that site from the firewall as he will kill too much time trying to read all 7+ years of articles.
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I just found out about BOFH!!
Oh dear... For the first time? Wow. The good news is it only takes about 3 years to read it all....
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The Bastard Operator from Hell #1
It's backup day today so I'm pissed off. Being the BOFH, however, does have it's advantages. I reassign null to be the tape device - it's so much more economical on my time as I don't have to keep getting up to change tapes every 5 minutes. And it speeds up backups too, so it can't be all bad can it? Of course not.
A user rings
"Do you know why the system is slow?" they ask
"It's probably something to do with..." I look up today's excuse ".. clock speed"
"Oh" (Not knowing what I'm talking about, they're satisfied) "Do you know when it will be fixed?"
"Fixed? There's 275 users on your machine, and one of them is you. Don't be so selfish - logout now and give someone else a chance!"
"But my research results are due in tommorrow and all I need is one page of Laser Print.."
"SURE YOU DO. Well; You just keep telling yourself that buddy!" I hang up.
You'd really think people would learn not to call..
The phone rings. It'll be him again, I know. That annoys me. I put on a gruff voice
"HELLO, SALARIES!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I've got the wrong number"
"YEAH? Well what's your name buddy? Do you know WASTED phone calls cost money? DO YOU? I've got a good mind to subtract your wasted time, my wasted time, and the cost of this call from your weekly wages! IN FACT I WILL! By the time I've finished with you, YOU'LL OWE US money! WHAT'S YOUR NAME - AND DON'T LIE, WE'VE GOT CALLER ID!!"
I hear the phone drop and the sound of running feet - he's obviously going to try and get an alibi by being at the Dean's office. I look up his username and find his department. I ring the Dean's secretary.
"Hello?" she answers
"Hi, SIMON, B.O.F.H HERE, LISTEN, WHEN THAT GUY COMES RUNNING INTO YOUR OFFICE IN ABOUT 10 SECONDS, CAN YOU GIVE HIM A MESSAGE?"
"I think so..." she says
"TELL HIM `HE CAN RUN, BUT HE CAN'T HIDE'"
"Um. Ok"
"AND DON'T FORGET NOW, I WOULDN'T WANT TO HAVE TO TELL ANYONE ABOUT THAT FILE IN YOUR ACCOUNT WITH YOUR ANSWERS TO THE PURITY TEST IN IT..."
I hear her scrabbling at the terminal...
"DON'T BOTHER - I HAVE A COPY. BE A GOOD PERVY AND PASS THE MESSAGE ON.."
She sobs her assent and I hang up. And the worst thing is, I was just guessing about the purity test thing. I grab a quick copy anyway, it might make for some good late-night reading.
Meantime backups have finished in record time, 2.03 seconds. Modern technology is wonderful, isn't it?
Another user rings.
"I need more space" he says
"Well, why not move to Texas?" I ask
"No, on my account, stupid."
Stupid? Uh-Oh..
"I'm terribly sorry" I say, in a polite manner equal to that of Jimmy Stewart in a Weekend Family Matine Feature "I didn't quite catch that. What was it that you said?"
I smell the fear coming down the line at me, but it's too late, he's a goner and he knows it.
"Um, I said what I wanted was more space on my account, *please*"
"Sure, hang on"
I hear him gasp his relief even though he'd covered the mouthpeice.
"There, you've got *plenty* of space now!"
"How much have I got?" he simps
Now this *REALLY* *PISSES* *ME* *OFF*! Not only do they want me to give them extra space, they want to check it, then correct me if I don't give them enough! They should be happy with what I give them *and that's it*!
Back into Jimmy Stewart mode.
"Well, let's see, you have 4 Meg available"
"Wow! Eight Meg in total, thanks!" he says, pleased with his bargaining power
"No" I interrupt, savouring this like a fine red at room temperature, with steak, extra rare, to follow; "4 Meg in total.."
"Huh? I'd used 4 Meg already, How could I have 4 Meg Available?"
I say nothing. It'll come to him.
"aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggghhhhhH!"
I kill me; I really do!
The Bastard Operator from Hell #2
I'm sitting at the desk, playing x-tank, when some thoughtless bastard rings me on the phone. I pick it up.
"Hello?" I say.
"Who is this?" they say
"It's me I think" I say, having successfully attended a telephone skills course
"Me Who?"
"Is this like a knock knock joke?" I say, trying anything to save myself having to end this game.
Too LATE! I get killed.
Now I'm pissed!
"What can I do for you?" I ask pleasantly - (one of the key warning signs)
"Um, I want to know if we have a particular software package.."
"Which package is that?"
"Uh, B-A-S-I-C it's called."
>clickety clickety d-e-l b-a-s-i-c.e-x-e<
"Um no, we don't have that. We used to though.."
"oh. Oh well, the other thing I wanted to know was, could the contents of my account be copied to tape to I have a permanent copy of them to save at home in case the worst happens.."
"The worst?"
"Well, like they get deleted or something..."
"DELETED! Oh, don't worry about that, we have backups!" (I'm such a *excrement*) "What was your username?"
He gives me his lusername. (What an idiot)
>clickety clikc<
"But you haven't got any files in your account!" I say, mock surprise leaping from my vocal chords.
"Yes I have, you must be looking in the wrong place!"
So first he spoils my x-tank game, and *now* he's calling me a liar...
>clickety click<
"Oh no, I made a mistake" I say
Did he mutter "typical" under his breath??!? Oh dear, oh dear..
"I MEANT TO SAY: That USERNAME doesn't exist"
"Huh? >wimper< It must do, I was only using it this morning!"
"Ah well, that'll be the problem, there was a virus in our system this morning, the... uh... DE VINCI Virus, wipes out users who are logged in when it goes off."
"That can't be right, my girlfriend was logged in, and I'm in her account now!"
"Which one was that?"
He tells me the username. Some people NEVER learn..
"Oh, yeah, her account was just after we discovered the virus."... >clickety clikc< "..she only lost all her files"
"But..."
"But don't worry, we've got them all on tape"
"Oh, thank goodness!!!"
"Paper tape. Have you got a magnifying glass and a pencil? SEE YOU IN THE MACHINE ROOM!!!! NYAHAHAHAHAHA!"
I'm such a prick!
The Bastard Operator from Hell #3
So I'm working so hard I barely have time to drive into town and watch a movie before I told people their printing will be ready. The queue's WAAAAAY too long to have everything printed (and sorted) by the time I told them, so I kill all the small jobs so there's only 2 left and I can sort them in no time.
Then, after the movie, (which was one of those slack Bertolucci ones that takes about 3 hours till the main character is killed off in a visionary experience) I get back and clear the printouts.
There's about 50 people waiting outside and I've got two printouts. That's about average for me. I thought I'd killed more tho. Anyway, I put out the printouts and walk slooowly inside, fingering the clipboard with "ACCOUNTS TO REMOVE" in big letters on the back. No-one says anything. As usual.
. . .
I'm sitting back in the Operations Armchair, watching the computer room closed circuit TV, which just happens to be connected to the frame-grabber's Video player (sent off for repair, due back sometime in '97) when the phone rings. That must be the 2nd time today, and it's really starting to get to me!
"Yes?" I say, pausing the picture.
"I seem to have accidentally deleted my C.V!" the voice at the other end of the line says.
"You have? What was your username?"
He tells me. What the hell, I AM bored.
"Ah no, you didn't delete it - I did."
"What?"
"I deleted it. It was full of excrement! You didn't ever get more than a B- in any of your subjects!"
"Huh?"
"And that crap about being a foreign exchange student, that was your girlfriend and we both know it!"
"Huh?!!"
"Your academic records. I checked them, you were lying.. Besides which, you forgot to include your criminal record.."
"How did y.." He clicks. "It's you isn't it? THE BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL!"
"In the flesh, on the phone and in your account.... You shouldn't have called you know. You especially shouldn't have given me your username.." >clickety< >click< "Neither should you have sent that mail to the System Manager telling him what you think of him in such graphic terms..."
"I didn't send any.."
>clickety< >click<......
"No, you didn't did you? But who can tell these days? Not to worry though, It'll all be over VERY soon.." >clickedy clikc< "..change my username back, and..."
"b-b-b.." he blubs, like a stood-up date
"Goodbye now" I say pleasantly, "you've got bags to pack and a life to start over..."
I hang up.
Two seconds later the red phone goes. I pick it up, it's the boss. He mumbles the username of the person I was just talking to, mentions something about a nasty mail message, and utters the words "You know what to do...", with the dots and everything.
Later, inside the Municipal Energy Authority Computer, as I'm modifying the poor pleb's Energy Bill by several zeros, I can't help but think about what lapse of judgement - what act of heinous stupidity - causes them to call. Then, even later, when I'm adding the poor pleb's photo image over the top of the FBI's online "MOST Wanted Armed and Dangerous, SHOOT ON SIGHT" offenders list, I realise I'll probably never know; but then life goes on.
A couple of hours later, as I see the SWAT vehicle roll up outside the poor pleb's apartment I realise that for some, it just doesn't.
But tommorrow is another day.
The Bastard Operator from Hell #4
It's a thursday, and I'm in a good mood. It's payday. I think I'll take some calls. I put the phone back on the hook. It rings.
"I've been trying to get you for hours!" the voice at the other end screams
"Not, it can't be hours" I say, putting "Blade Runner" back into it's cover and looking at the back, "it was more like 114 minutes. I was on a long phone call with the big boss, trying to get you users some better facilities"
Hook; Line; and Sinker...
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"That's ok, I'm a tolerant person" I make a mental note to change his password to something nasty in the next couple of days.
"Um, I need to know how to rename a file" he says.
Oh dear... Hang on, it's payday isn't it?! I'm in a good mood.
"Sure. You just go 'rm' and the filename"
"Thanks"
"No worries" (Now I'm in a *REALLY* good mood. I think I just might write that script to make saving impossible on rogue at random times like I've been thinking about)
The phone rings again.
"Hello?"
"Hi there" I say
"Is this the Operators?"
"Yes it is" I say, nice as pie
"Could you get my printouts out please. I need them urgently, and I printed them over 5 minutes ago"
"Your username?" I ask
He gives it to me, and I write it down for later. "No worries at all!" I say, and head to the printers.
There's a HUUUUUUUGE pile of printouts there, and sure enough, his is at the top of the pile. I pick it up, split it out of the rest and pour our ink- stained cleaning alcohol all over it, run it over a couple of times with the loaded tape trolley then slam it in the tape safe door some times as well.
Beautiful.
"Here's your printout" I say "Sorry about the delay, we've got a few printer problems."
He takes a look and excrements himself.
"Well, can I print it again?" he asks, worried
"Sure you can" I say "But no promises, the printer's a bit stuffed today"
"Well can I print it on laser - is that working?"
"Yeah of course, but that'll cost you" I say, oozing compassion for the geek
"It doesn't matter about the cost, THIS IS URGENT!"
I slide-on back into the printer room and put in the toner cartridge we save for special occasions - the one that prints thick black lines down the middle of the page and is all faint on one side. It took me quite a while to make it like that too. The printout shoots through and I bring it out immediately - I don't want to miss this!
"W-w-what's happened to my printout?" the geek squeals at me. Lucky I wrote that username down - I'm really starting to develop a taste for torture.
"Well nothing. I mean sure, it's a little soiled, but that cartridge has already done 47 thousand pages and been refilled 17 times. It's quite good compared to some we get"
Geek pays up and starts blubbing.
"Hey now. There's no reason to cry! Have you got a disk with your work on it?"
He gives me a box of diskettes and I step inside and buzz them thru the bulk eraser. I come back out again.
"Sorry, I just remembered, our machine is on the fritz, you'll have to take these to the other side of campus to the machine there, it'll print them ok, and it had a brand-new toner yesterday."
"GREAT!"
"No worries. Oh, and hold the disks above your head the whole way there, the earth's magnetic field is particularly strong today."
"Huh?"
"No arguements, just do it."
He wanders off, hand held high. excrement, I hate myself sometimes!
-
Sorry, but this describes me to a "T" ( don't touch my stuff!!!)
I'm sitting at my desk, reconfiguring my network monitor, when the phone rings. Caller-ID tells me it's one of the consultants in the Bean-counter department on the sixth floor. I pick the receiver up, say "Wrong Number", and hang up.
I know it's a wrong number - mine isn't listed internally. The number that is listed rings through (I believe) to a locked storeroom in the basement. Popular rumour has it that it was once answered... Network Engineering, like a major credit card, has it's privileges.
The phone rings again and I'm getting concerned. Twice in one day is a little excessive.
"Hello?" I ask, not wanting to give any clues away.
"Is that the network engineer?" a voice asks.
This concerns me even more. There's only one person who knows my extension number - that's the system operator, and he knows better than to divulge it to a user. At least, I thought he knew better.
"Yes?" I reply.
"I've got a little problem with my connection," the voice says.
"Call the helpdesk," I reply, and drop the receiver back into its cradle
Yet again the phone starts ringing.
"I already rang the helpdesk!" the voice wails. "They told me to call you!"
Oh dear. There are three things wrong here: one, a user knows my extension number, which means: two, the helpdesk has been talking to the operator again; but more importantly: three, the operator is giving out my extension number to people.
This is not a good thing. If I'd wanted calls, I would have put an advert in a personal column. I'd best get to the very bottom of this before things get out of hand.
"Why did the helpdesk tell you to call me?"
"Because they don't know what the writing on the patch-panels means."
My network monitor is now beeping at me, which brings the concern level into the upper percentiles.
"On my patch panels?" I say.
"No, the ones up here in our section on the sixth floor."
"Yes. My patch panels. The ones I lock away from everyone," I fume.
"Well, I ... "
"Just a minute. One question. What were you doing in the Comms Cupboard?"
"Well, my connection went dead, so I ..."
"So you broke into the Comms cupboard?"
"No, not broke into - the operator gave me the key."
"The ex-operator gave you the key?"
"Yeah."
I grab the phone, go to the inspection window, and get the operator's attention. He exits to the corridor heading in my direction.
"And you've touched something haven't you?" I ask down the phone, knowing the worst.
"Uh ... I ... er"
"You got drawn in by the pretty lights, and you touched something. Don't bother denying it, I know you did, and you know you did. And pretty soon, if I'm not mistaken, most of your division will know you did too. What did you touch?"
"Well, I thought the router might have crashed, so I ... "
"Wait! Another question. Where did you hear the word 'Router'?"
"I read it in a manual that I got at Dil... "
"WHAT?! You've been reading forbidden literature as well?"
"It's not forbidden to read ... "
"Stop! The book was in the technical section wasn't it?"
"Well, it ... "
By this time the operator has arrived at my office and has realised the significance of the tones coming from the network monitor.
"What were you doing in the technical section? You know you don't belong there! But let me piece this together. You skim-read a technical tome, wait for your chance, impress the gullible ex-operator with a host of buzzword lies, then, under the false impression that the router had gone down, rebooted it. Didn't you?"
"Uh ... Yes. Sort of. I didn't know which of the three routers was at fault, so I ... "
"You booted them all didn't you?"
Sure enough, my screen shows the sixth floor as a sea of red.
"Uh, yes. I was just wondering if there's anything else I should've done."
Looking directly at the 'ex' operator, I reply: "Well, come to think of it, yes there is. Usual procedure after causing a major network outage is to collect your personal effects from your desk and work area, not forgetting your coffee mug, then sit in a large open area until security comes to escort you from the building."
"But I ... "
"Oh, and make sure they don't have to search you for your keys or ID card. I've heard people have nasty accidents that way. Bye now! Oh, and if you've written my extension number down anywhere, I'd advise you to dispose of it carefully."
He hangs up, and I prepare to show our operator why the electric stapler has all those warning signs about keeping the body clear.
-
this is great stuff. where do you get these?
-
this is great stuff. where do you get these?
As posted earlier:
http://www.theregister.co.uk/odds/bofh/
-
y00tz,
I spent a few hours reading from the beginning in 1995. I did remember a lot of the stories that I had read in the past.
Man, if I only had that guys ballz.........
-
You haven't been very productive lately, have you Knack? :)
-
/me looks around....
I did make those posts from home sir....
:p
-
Man, if I only had that guys ballz.........
Who doesn't? :D Then again, I've picked up some of the attitude, but I have the wrong job title for it.
-
"So who's being made redundant again?" the boss asks, breaking the silence of the questions section of my presentation.
The room is silent while the boss and the rest of senior IT management await the answer to this weighty question.
"No one is being made redundant," I fume. "I'm talking about equipment here, routers and switches. I want to replace one router with two switches, which will give us redundancy at head office in that if one switch fails, the other one can take up the core functionality."
"Two switches, doing the same thing," the boss said.
"The same core tasks, yes."
"Like two light switches at either end of a hallway?"
"Sort of like that, yes."
"So if one's up, the other one has to be down for the light to go?"
Sigh.
Later, in Mission Control, I explain the rules of 'Management Stack Theory' to the PFY because he has no idea why the meeting deteriorated so quickly.
"Managers are stack-based," I explain. "Rule one is that they have, at most, a two-item stack limit. Mention a technical term and they'll push it onto their mental stack. Mention another, they push that up there as well. Mention yet another and they stack overload and reboot. That is, they think about what they're going to do after work, how sore their bum is, whether the marketing assistant knows her blouse is almost see-through, and so forth."
"But then they'd be rebooting all the time," the PFY says.
"Afraid not. Rule one, subsection B, deals with Stack Leakage. Technical terms leak from the stack at about one per sentence."
"Oh."
"Rule two of Management Stack Theory is that the frame size on their mental stack is pitifully small � terms are compressed to fit into the available frame. I mention 'Disk seek latency', they hear 'Disky Latex', 'Seek Latex', 'Disk Lazy', or something similar."
"So they didn't get much out of your presentation, is what you're saying? But they can't be that stupid," the PFY comments.
Oh, such innocence...
"Which brings me to rule three of Manager Stack Theory," I cry. "After a manager reboots, Volatile Memory is not zeroed, meaning that the contents are indeterminant. What the manager is left with is a jumble of terms, which, after Manager Internal Logic has finished with it, might become: 'Seek a see-through Latex Blouse'."
"Ah," the PFY doesn't quite believe me.
I can see that some form of proof is required...
"Right, you apply my rules to the following sentences. Use the whiteboard as your Manager Stack."
"OK," the PFY accepts the challenge.
"I think we need some redundant switches."
The PFY dutifully writes redundant switches on the board.
"You forgot rule two," I point out.
The PFY amends it to randy swatches.
"Which we could dynamically route to..."
� dynamo root.
"Which would allow us to multi-home..."
� My bum hurts, writes the PFY, erasing everything before it.
"Correct," I comment. "And what's left in memory after booting?"
"I need a new swatch for the randy man with the root password."
"Sounds reasonable to me."
"And a load of bollocks to me!" the PFY splutters, only to be interrupted midflow by the boss poking his head around the door.
"Yours too?" he asks, noticing the PFY's whiteboard scribbles. "Mine was aching all through that last meeting. Now, which one of you needed the new watch for rooting?"
Vindicated, I smile at the PFY.
"That'll be me," I say, grabbing hold of the tasteful new wrist accessory.
"What was it for again?"
"Oh, I'll be using it to benchmark the L2 cache performance of the new symmetric multiprocessor machines."
*REBOOT*
If the boss had a console screen option, I'd be watching a memory test at this point...
"I'm sorry, what was that again?" he asks.
"I just said I'll be needing a Dual-ported PC to run my Lempel Ziv compression � apparently it's a new algorithm."
*REBOOT*
"Cyclic redundancy checking! Electrically erasable EPROM! File read lookahead!" I blurt it all out, before the boss has gathered his wits about him.
The boss has a faraway look in his eyes.
"What happened?" the PFY asks, waving his hand in front of the boss's face.
"I've heard of this. I think he's stuck in reboot mode. He needs a manual reset."
"How the hell do you do that?" The PFY is worried.
"Uh... The male non-maskable interrupt..."
"I couldn't!" The PFY cries.
"It's that or have him stand in front of your desk all day..."
Reluctantly, the PFY kicks the boss in the crotch, and he goes down.
"What happened?" he cries, getting painfully to his feet.
"You just fainted and fell on to the corner of the desk. And you missed the end of my idea about Level 5 RAIDing all our legacy data as a data warehouse repository for the canned queries in the database front-end."
Blankness...
"I think he needs rebooting again." And I take a couple of steps back for the run-up...
-
lmfao, that one was the first to get me to laugh. something about us men being in so much pain after a nut shot makes it funny when it's someone else at the end of the boot.
-
I know this has happened to a few of you when buying car parts, computer parts, and other odds and ends.....
"What do you mean, generic replacement?" I ask, thinking very unkind thoughts about the stores person.
"It's a substitute... for the part you ordered."
"It's not the same!"
"According to the system it is!" the stores bloke burbles.
"It's not!"
"But the system says they're the same - it must be a vendor substitute part."
"Is it THE vendors substitute part, or the substitute part of a third party vendor?"
"Well, a third party one, I guess. But it should work exactly the same as the power supply you want it to replace."
"Tell you what," I say, realising that this could go on for some time: "Why don't you pop up here and we'll show you the problem."
"I guess so," the stores guy says, knowing full well that he was employed a couple of days after the last time this phrase was used...
Ten minutes later, he's up in Mission Control, and unless I'm very much mistaken (which rarely occurs) he's got a dictaphone running in his pocket.
Sigh.
"OK!" I snap, "Let me show you what I mean. Over here, we have the dead power supply which came out of our box, and over here we have the replacement power supply. Does anything strike you as different about them?"
"Well the new one is smaller I guess."
"Indeed. Allow me to demonstrate!"
I slide the supply down the rails, wiggle it around for a bit until the contacts line up, then push it home.
"It plugs into the machine!" the stores bloke comments.
"Leaving a large hole along one edge."
"Couldn't you just cover it up with some tape?" he suggests helpfully
"Perhaps in the technological equivalent of the third world, yes, but in the real world, no. So how about we get the part we ordered?"
"Well it's like this," he starts "I enter your part in the system and it finds a cheaper alternative and automatically chooses it. I'm not allowed to chose anything else."
"You wa?" the PFY asks, horrified.
"It's the new financials system - it does everything for you. I just enter the number required and the shipping requirements" he sweats.
"I see. Thank you for your time"
. . one hour later . .
"It's a vendor substitute!" the Beancounter tells me, after I point out the fly in the ointment for the second time.
"It's A vendor substitute, not THE vendor substitute," I repeat.
"Yes but it must work exactly the same way!"
"It provides the same power, but it's not the same unit - so it doesn't fit properly."
"But it does the same job!"
"No, because an element of the power supply is cooling, and if it doesn't fit properly, the cooling doesn't work."
"It doesn't say 'Power supply and cooling' on the description," he responds.
"Ah right. So if it doesn't say it in the description, then it's not supposed to do it?"
"Obviously. I mean if it was meant to do cooling, they would call it a 'power and cooling unit' and probably charge us more for it."
"So we can't get the right power supply?" the PFY calls from across the room.
"The ordering system will choose the cheapest alternative. Perhaps you could get the original vendor to change the description of that part and give it a new part number?" he adds helpfully, not realising that the chances of getting a vendor to change a part number are lower than the Titanic's golden rivet... "That way there wouldn't be a substitute part."
"Or maybe we could just override it this once?" I suggest.
"Oh no," he blurts chuckling at the thought, "We have a policy of not overriding the system - it sets a bad precedent you see."
"So nothing's going to happen till we get the vendor to change their part number?" I ask.
"It's like you read my mind," he replies smugly.
...Later that same day....
>Ring<
"Systems!" the PFY blurts, slapping the phone on hands free as soon as he sees the calling number.
"There's a problem with the lift!" a familiar voice echoes tinnily.
"What's that then?" the PFY asks.
"It's stuck on the 6th floor!" the voice responds.
"No...." the PFY responds, tapping away on the lift interface. "It's stuck on the 6.01999th floor."
"What?"
"It's on the 6.01999ths floor. It's slightly overshot the top floor."
"Well can you get it to get back down?"
"Hang on, I'll get Simon."
..The PFY and I finish our game of poker...
"Hello, Systems."
"I'm stuck in a lift on the 6.01999th floor."
"We haven't got a 6.01999th floor!" I reply.
"That's what your assistant said, we'd overshot or something."
"Hang on." >clickety< "Ohh yes, so you have. That was silly."
"What do you mean? It's not like we chose to go there!"
"True."
"Can you get us down?"
"I'm not sure I can. You see it's described as a 'Lift', not a Drop or a Fall."
"What?"
"You're in a Lift, i.e. UP. I could call the service company, but they might say that if it were meant to go down as well as up it would be called a 'Lift and Fall or Drop or something'."
"What?!"
"See, it's lifted you, like it said in the description of the device - so technically, if the lift did anything else, it would be in the description and they'd charge more for it - like that power supply we had this morning."
"Oh. It's you."
"Now I could ring the lift company and ask them if they'd change the description of this unit so that it's clear that it goes both up and down - but that's liable to take some considerable time."
"Or we could just get out the escape hatch," he snaps.
"Ordinarily, yes, but when you're at the absolute top of the shaft the proximity of the motor prevents the escape hatch from opening - uh - so I've been told."
"Look just make the thing go down will you?" he says, a touch of angst creeping into his voice.
"You mean override the system?" I ask "Because we have a policy about overr.."
"ALRIGHT, I'LL GET YOUR BLOODY POWERSUPPLY."
"Really? Would you?" I gush "That would be fantastic! Now what about on all future lift trips?"
"What?"
"Well if you could permanently override the purchasing system for us, I think I might be able to override the lift system for you...."
"And if I don't agree I'll be stuck here forever?"
"It's like you read my mind!" ®
-
Truly fantstic :D
-
"Ah, Simon, Steven, there's a man here from security wants a word with you?" the head of IT asks nervously.
"Really?" the PFY says. "What's he want?"
"Found a body," security says, stepping into Mission Control from behind the head.
"A body?" the PFY says, in his well-practised innocent manner.
"A body," security repeats.
"Where?" I ask.
"Third floor showers."
For a moment there I'd wondered whether the PFY really was the hard faced bastard he sometimes appeared to be and hadn't made the anonymous call to security about the Boss' sub basement predicament, but even our ducting system isn't watertight enough to push someone up four floors...
"And you're coming to us to see if we have security footage?"
"No."
"Swipe card records?"
"No."
"Motion sensor logs?"
"No," security repeats. "I popped up to see if you knew something about it."
"Showering?" the PFY asks, acting slightly offended.
"The body."
"Oh, I shouldn't think so. Who was it?"
"Bloke from accounts payable. Henderson."
"And you thought of them why?" the head of IT asks.
"We thought he'd died from natural causes," security says, nodding at the PFY.
"Natural causes?"
"Yeah, electrocution, drowning, poisoning..."
"They're not natural causes!" the head gasps.
"They are if you call me at 4am whining about the quality of toner," I snap. "Not that this bloke...uhm..."
"Henderson," security supplies helpfully.
"...did that."
"So you thought of them because?"
"Because he was a beancounter and because he had one of these in his hand," security says, holding up a USB key.
"A USB key," the PFY says. "What's on it?"
"I was hoping you'd be able to tell me that – it's encrypted."
"Ah...shouldn't the Police be doing that?" the PFY says, choosing the cautious route.
"They should be, but I've been asked to take a look at it because Henderson was being monitored internally. It seems he was a little enthusiastic in processing the payments he's been authorising the last few months. Paying them two or three times in some cases..."
"And THAT'S why you thought of us – you thought he'd been overpaying us?"
"No, the payments were all to an auditing company for 'consultancy' fees," the head of IT says, getting in on the act. "But our company doesn't want its name in the E-Crime reports since the CEO's a charter member of the E-Crime Awareness Committee, and it might look bad..."
"So let's get this straight – your sole reason for suspecting that we had something to do with it was because the guy was carrying a USB key?"
"He was naked," security adds.
"Oh please tell me he was 'carrying it' in his hand!" the PFY says, dropping it on his desk while suppressing a gag reflex.
"Yes."
"Oh, right then >PLUG!<" the PFY sighs. "Okay, >clickety< so it's a USB Key-based encryption system with... >tap< >tap< hundreds of trillions of possible keys and >clickety< would most likely take several weeks of computing time to crack."
"Really?" the head of IT gasps.
"Nah, it's a raw image of an encrypted ZIP file – >tap< >tap< and an very early version of ZIP at that.""
"So when will you have it cracked?" security asks.
"Now," the PFY says, opening a spreadsheet onto the window. ">clickety< Hm... >tapity-click< It's just a spreadsheet of payments – hardly worth putting into a zip file at all – certainly not worth encrypting >tappity<"
"Nothing else hidden on the device?!?"
">clickety< Nnnnooo, doesn't look like it. >tappity< By the look of it the key was brand new – or newly low-level erased and the Zip file raw copied over it – the rest is blank. So it looks like you're back to square one – perhaps someone at the audit company thought he knew too much?"
"Yes, it's possible – but at least we know we're not going to be handing over any data which might embarrass the CEO," security says. "We can hand this over to the Police safe in the knowledge that no further invoices will be triple paid. And now that that's cleared up.. >RING< Hello... Yes... Yes... really? Okay, yes... good, goodbye then."
"What is it?" the head asks expectantly.
"A friend of mine keeping me posted about the coroner's report – it was natural causes."
"You mean electric..."
"No stroke. The coroner reckons he probably dropped the key, bent over to pick it up and BAM, lights out matron!"
"So it wasn't them?" the head asks dubiously looking at the PFY and myself.
"Nope, just a random event – could have happened to anyone," security says, grabbing the USB key and wandering off sheepishly with the head of IT in tow.
...
"So you opened your own auditing office," I say to the PFY once they're gone. "Ballsy! But the stroke thing – a piece of luck or overdose of blood thinners in the water fountain?"
"ME?!"" the PFY gasps. "I thought it was you?"
"Hell no. But the double payment stuff sounds good!"
"Yeah, all the rage in Iraq. Apparently Henderson was paying the same bill on successive months by appending a suffix to the invoice number. On the third month he'd divert suspicion simply by paying the bill plus the overdue penalty so the numbers didn't recur. And the best part was he had a set of SQL statements which he'd trigger from his desktop to do it without leaving an audit trail in the finance package."
"That's pretty bloody clever...But how do you know all this?"
"It was all in that ZIP file on the USB key."
"But that was only a spreadsheet!"
"No, that was off the Beancounter's fileshare. The real ZIP file was much more interesting – he's kept notes and everything!"
"So..."
"I think it's time we got our names on the employee list at that auditing place..." the PFY says, picking up the phone and bashing in a number...
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and people wonder why I love my job.....
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What is your job exactly?
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What is your job exactly?
His most important job? DigitalPaint: Paintball 2 forum moderator ;)
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What is your job exactly?
i'm a systems admin not unlike the BOFH :p
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Four married guys go fishing. After an hour, the following conversation took place
First man : "You have no idea what I had to do to be able to come out fishing this weekend. I had to promise my wife that I will paint every room in the house next weekend."
Second man: "That's nothing, I had to promise my wife that I will build her a new deck around the pool."
Third man: "You both have it easy! I had to promise
my wife that I will remodel the kitchen for her."
They continue to fish when they realised that the fourth
had not said a word.
So they asked him. "You haven't said anything about what
you had to do to be able to come fishing this weekend.
What's the deal?"
Fourth man : "I just set my alarm for 5:30 am, when it
went off, I turned off my alarm gave the wife a nudge and
said, "Fishing or sex," and she said, "Wear your sun block."
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In prison, you get three square meals a day.
At home, you cook three square meals a day and try to get your kids to eat it.
In prison, you get an hour each day in the yard to exercise and mingle.
At home you get to clean the yard up so you can mow it so your kids can spread more toys all over it so that you can go out and clean it again because little Jr. can't sleep without his latest lego creation.
In prison, you get to watch TV, cable even.
At home, you get to listen to your children fight over the remote control and get treated to hours and hours of mindless cartoons thanks to cable.
In prison, you can read whatever you want and attend college for free.
At home, you get to read weekly readers starring detective, Jane, and Spot and worry about how to send Jr. to college and still be able to eat for the next twenty years.
In prison, all your medical care is free.
At home, you have to pawn your mother's silver and fill out trillions of papers for insurance and hope the doctor will see you before you die.
In prison, if you have visitors, all you do is go to a room, sit, talk and then say good-bye when you are ready or your time is up.
At home, you get to clean for days in advance and then cook and clean up after your guests and hope that they will one day leave.
In prison, you can spend your free time writing letters or just hang out in your own space all day.
At home, you get to clean your space and everyone else's space, too, and what the heck is free time again?
In prison, you get your own personal toilet.
At home, you have to physically hold the bathroom door shut in order to keep from having someone standing over you demanding to know how long till you're done so you can do something for them.
In prison, the prison laundry takes care of all your dirty clothes.
At home, you get to take care of them yourself, plus everybody else's, and get yelled at because somebody's favorite shirt isn't clean.
In prison, they take you everywhere you need to go.
At home, you take everybody else where they need to go.
In prison, the guards transport all your personal effects for you and make sure nothing is missing.
At home, you have to lug around everybody else's stuff in your purse and then wonder who went in it and took your last dollar.
In prison, there are no screaming or whining children or spouses asking you to do something else for them, or screaming at you because you didn't.
At home....stop me when I get to the downside of jail, will ya?
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some famous quotes by officers!!!
"The handcuffs are tight because they're new. They'll stretch out after you wear them awhile."
"If you run, you'll only go to jail tired."
"So, you don't know how fast you were going. I guess that means I can write anything I want on the ticket, huh?"
"Yes sir, you can talk to the shift supervisor, but I don't think it will help. Oh, did I mention that I am the shift supervisor?"
"Warning! You want a warning? O.K., I'm warning you not to do that again or I'll give you another ticket."
"The answer to this last question will determine whether you are drunk or not. Was Mickey Mouse a cat or dog?"
"Yeah, we have a quota. Two more tickets and my wife gets a toaster oven."
"Life's tough, it's tougher if you're stupid."
"No sir, we don't have quotas anymore. We used to have quotas, but now we're allowed to write as many tickets as we want."
"Just how big were those two beers?
"In God we trust, all others are suspects."
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I found this one:
As an airplane is about to crash, a female passenger jumps up frantically and announces, "If I'm going to die, I want to die feeling like a woman."
She removes all her clothing and asks, "Is there someone on this plane who is man enough to make me feel like a woman?"
A man stands up, removes his shirt and says, "Here, iron this!".
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The FBI had an opening for an assassin. After all the background checks, interviews, and testing were done there were 3 finalists. Two men and a woman.
For the final test, the FBI agents took one of the men to a large metal door and handed him a gun.
"We must know that you will follow your instructions no matter what the circumstances. Inside the room you will find your wife sitting in a chair. Kill Her!
The man said, "You can't be serious, I could never shoot my wife." The agent said, "Then you're not the right man for this job. Take your wife and go home."
The second man was given the same instructions. He took the gun and went into the room. All was quiet for about 5 minutes. The man came out with tears in his eyes, "I tried, but I can't kill my wife."
The agent said, "You don't have what it takes. Take your wife and go home."
Finally, it was the woman's turn. She was given the same instructions, to kill her husband. She took the gun and went into the room. Shots were heard, one after another. They heard screaming, crashing, banging on the walls. After a few minutes, all was quiet. The door opened slowly and there stood the woman. She wiped the sweat from her brow.
"This gun is loaded with blanks" she said. "I had to beat him to death with the chair."
MORAL: Don't mess with women!
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For all of you non-Texans:
Two men are driving through Texas when they get pulled over by a State Trooper. The cop walks up and taps on the window with his nightstick. The driver rolls down the window and WHACK, the cop smacks him in the head with the stick.
The driver asks, "What the hell was that for?"
The cop answers, "You're in Texas, Son. When we pull you over, you better have your license ready when we get to your car."
The driver says, "I'm sorry, Officer, I'm not from
around here."
The cop runs a check on the guy's license, and he's clean. He gives the guy his license back, walks around to the passenger side and taps on the window. The passenger rolls down the window and WHACK, the cop smacks him on the head with the nightstick.
The passenger asks, "What'd you do that for?"
The cop says, "Just making your wish come true."
The passenger asks, "Making what wish come true?"
The cop says, "I know that two miles down the road you're gonna say to your buddy, "I wish that a$$hole would've tried that sheet with me! "
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The Pope visits Alaska
The Pope took a couple of days off to visit the Rugged Mountains of Alaska for some sightseeing. He was cruising along the campground in the Pope Mobile when there was a frantic commotion just at the edge of the woods.
A helpless Democrat, wearing sandals, shorts, a "Save the Whales" hat, and a "To Hell with Bush" T-shirt, was screaming while struggling frantically and thrashing around trying to free himself from the grasp of a 10-foot
grizzly. As the Pope watched in horror, a group of Republican loggers came racing up.
One quickly fired a 44 magnum into the bear's chest. The other two reached up and pulled the bleeding, semiconscious Democrat from the bear's grasp.
Then using long clubs, the three loggers finished off the bear and two of them threw it onto the bed of their truck while the other tenderly placed the injured Democrat in the back seat.
As they prepared to leave, the Pope summoned them to come over. "I give you my blessing for your brave actions!" he told them. "I heard there was a
bitter hatred between Republican loggers and Democratic Environmental activists but now I've seen with my own eyes that this is not true."
As the Pope drove off, one of the loggers asked his buddies "Who was that guy?" "It was the Pope," another replied. "He's in direct contact with Heaven and has access to all wisdom."
"Well," the logger said, "he may have access to all wisdom but he sure doesn't know anything about Grizzly bear hunting! By the way, how is the bait holding up, or do we need to go back to Massachusetts and get another one?
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That inspires my incredibly lame Pope joke.
The late Pope John Paul the First was riding in the back of his limo through the countryside of Western Europe. After a while of staring at sheep along the side of the road, the Pope asked the driver if he could drive the limo for a bit, seeing as he rarely gets to drive. The driver found a turnoff and the Pope took over for a few miles before his inexperience at driving got the best of him, and he was pulled over by a police officer.
The policeman walked up, and took one look at who he pulled over before he took out his radio and called his boss.
He said, "Sir you're never going to believe who I just pulled over!"
"Michael Jordan?" The senior officer asked.
"Nope, bigger" replied the cop.
"George Bush?"
"Negative"
"Well who is it?" The chief finally asked, to which the cop replied, "hell if I know, but the Pope is his driver!"
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roflcopter!
This is what I needed this morning ;D
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Why did the chicken cross the playground?
To get to the other slide!
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An elderly woman walked into the Bank of Canada one morning with a purse full of money. She wanted to open a savings account and insisted on talking to the president of the Bank because, she said, she had a lot of money.
After many lengthy discussions (after all, the client is always right) an employee took the elderly woman to the president's
office.
The president of the Bank asked her how much she wanted to deposit. She placed her purse on his desk and replied, "$165,000". The president was curious and asked her how she had been able to save so much money. The elderly woman replied that she made bets.
The president was surprised and asked, "What kind of bets?"
The elderly woman replied, "Well, I bet you $25,000 that your testicles are square."
The president started to laugh and told the woman that it was impossible to win a bet like that.
The woman never batted an eye. She just looked at the president and said, "Would you like to take my bet?"
"Certainly", replied the president. "I bet you $25,000 that my testicles are not square."
"Done", the elderly woman answered. "But given the amount of money involved, if you don't mind I would like to come back at 10 o' clock tomorrow morning with my lawyer as a witness." "No problem", said the president of the Bank confidently.
That night, the president became very nervous about the bet and spent a long time in front of the mirror examining his testicles, turning them this way and that, checking them over again and again until he was positive that no one could consider his testicles as square and reassuring himself that there was no way he could lose the bet.
The next morning at exactly 10 o'clock the elderly woman arrived at the president's office with her lawyer and acknowledged the $25,000 bet made the day before that the president's testicles were square.
The president confirmed that the bet was the same as the one made the day before. Then the elderly woman asked him to drop his pants etc. so that she and her lawyer could see clearly.
The president was happy to oblige.
The elderly woman came closer so she could see better and asked the president if she could touch them. "Of course", said the president. "Given the amount of money involved, you should be 100% sure."
The elderly woman did so with a little smile. Suddenly the president noticed that the lawyer was banging his head against the wall. He asked the elderly woman why he was doing that and she replied,
"Oh, it's probably because I bet him $100,000 that around 10 o'clock in the morning I would be holding the balls of the President of the Bank of Canada !"
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Three Rednecks were working up on a cell phone tower: Cooter, Pete and KC.
As they start their descent Cooter slips, Falls off the tower and is killed
instantly. As the ambulance takes the body away, Pete says, "Well, darn,
someone should go and tell his wife." KC says, "OK, I'm pretty good at that
sensitive stuff, I'll do it. "Two hours later, he comes back carrying a case
of Budweiser. Pete says, "Where did you get that beer, KC?" "Cooter's wife
gave it to me," KC replies. "That's unbelievable, you told the lady her
husband was dead and she gave you beer?" Well, not exactly", KC says. "When
she answered the door, I said to her, you must be Cooter's widow'." She
said, "You must be mistaken, I'm not a widow." Then I said "I'll bet you a
case of Budweiser you are. "
Rednecks Are Good At Sensitive crap...
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GEORGE CARLIN'S NEW RULES FOR 2007
New Rule: No more gift registries. You know, it used to be just for weddings. Now it's for babies and new homes and graduations from rehab. Picking out the stuff you want and having other people buy it for you isn't gift giving, it's the white people version of looting.
New Rule: Stop giving me that pop-up ad for classmates.com! There's a reason you don't talk to people for 25 years. Because you don't particularly like them! Besides, I already know what the captain of the football team is doing these days --- mowing my lawn.
New Rule: Don't eat anything that's served to you out a window unless you're a seagull. People are acting all shocked that a human finger was found in a bowl of Wendy's chili. Hey, it cost less than a dollar. What did you expect it to contain? Lobster?
New Rule: Stop saying that teenage boys who have sex with their hot, blonde teachers are permanently damaged . I have a better description for these kids: 'Lucky bastards.'
New Rule: If you need to shave and you still collect baseball cards, you're a dope. If you're a kid, the cards are keep sakes of your idols. If you're a grown man, they're pictures of men.
New Rule: Ladies, leave your eyebrows alone. Here's how much men care about your eyebrows: Do you have two of them? Good, we're done.
New Rule:There's no such thing as flavored water. There's a whole aisle of this crap at the supermarket, water, but, without that watery taste. Sorry, but flavored water is called a soft drink. You want flavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it melt. That's your flavored water.
New Rule: Stop screwing with old people. Target is introducing a redesigned pill bottle that's square, with a bigger label. And the top is now the bottom. And by the time grandpa figures out how to open it, his ass will be in the morgue. Congratulations, Target, you just solved the Social Security crisis.
New Rule: The more complicated the Starbucks order, the bigger the excretory opening. If you walk into a Starbucks and order a 'decaf grandee, half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla, double-shot, gingerbread cappuccino, extra dry, light ice, with one Sweet-n'-Low, and One NutraSweet,' ooooh, you're a huge excretory opening.
New Rule: I'm not the cashier! By the time I look up from sliding my card, entering My PIN number, pressing 'Enter,' verifying the amount, deciding, no, I don't want Cash back, and pressing 'Enter' again, the kid who is supposed to be ringing me up is standing there eating my Almond Joy.
New Rule: Just because your tattoo has Chinese characters in it doesn't make you Spiritual. It's right above the crack of your ass. And it translates to 'beef with broccoli.' The last time you did anything spiritual, you were praying to God you weren't pregnant. You're not spiritual. You're just high.
New Rule: Competitive eating isn't a sport. It's one of the seven deadly sins. ESPN Recently televised the U.S. Open of Competitive Eating, because watching those athletes at the poker table was just too darned exciting. What's next, competitive farting? Oh wait, they're already doing that. It's called 'The Howard Stern Show.'
New Rule: I don't need a bigger mega M&Ms. If I'm extra hungry for M&Ms, I'll go nuts and eat two.
New Rule: If you're going to insist on making movies based on crappy old television shows, then you have to give everyone in the Cineplex a remote so we can see what's playing on the other screens. Let's remember the reason something was a television show in the first place is that the idea wasn't good enough to be a movie.
New Rule: And this one is long overdue: No more bathroom attendants. After I zip up, some guy is offering me a towel and a mint like I just had sex with George Michael. I can't even tell If he's supposed to be there, or just some freak with a fetish. I don't want to be on your webcam, Dude. I just want to wash my hands
New Rule: When I ask how old your toddler is, I don't need to hear '27 months.' 'He's two' will do just fine. He's not a cheese. And I didn't really care in the first place.
New Rule: If you ever hope to be a credible adult and want a job that pays better than Minimum wage, then for God's sake don't pierce or tattoo every available piece of flesh. If so, then plan your future around saying, 'Do you want fries with that?'
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nah, theyre not that great. the only ones i like are:
Stop giving me that pop-up ad for classmates.com!
Just because your tattoo has Chinese characters in it doesn't make you Spiritual.
Competitive eating isn't a sport.
When I ask how old your toddler is, I don't need to hear '27 months.
If you ever hope to be a credible adult and want a job that pays better than Minimum wage, then for God's sake don't pierce or tattoo every available piece of flesh. If so, then plan your future around saying, 'Do you want fries with that?'
all the others aren't that true, to me.
and did you notice the "excretory opening" filter? lawl.
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it's the white people version of looting.
Ouch :(
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Bob works hard at the plant and spends two nights each week bowling and plays golf every Saturday. His wife thinks he's pushing himself too hard, so for his birthday she takes him to a local strip club.The doorman at the club greets them and says, "Hey, Bob! How ya doin?" His wife is puzzled and asks if he's been to this club before. "Oh no," says Bob. "He's on my bowling team.
When they are seated, a waitress asks Bob if he'd like his usual and brings over a Budweiser. His wife is becoming increasingly uncomfortable and says, "How did she know that you drink Budweiser?"
"I recognize her, she's the waitress from the golf club. I always have a Bud at the end of the 1st nine, honey."
A stripper then comes over to their table, throws her arms around Bob, starts to rub herself all over him and says, "Hi Bobby. Want your usual table dance, big boy?"
Bob's wife, now furious, grabs her purse and storms out of the club. Bob follows and spots her getting into a cab. Before she can slam the door, he jumps in beside her. Bob tries desperately to explain how the stripper must have mistaken him for someone else, but his wife is having none of it. She is screaming at him at the top of her lungs, calling him every 4 letter word in the book.
The cabby turns around and says,"Geez Bob, you picked up a real female dog this time."
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Next time you have a bad day at work think of this guy.
Rob is a commercial saturation diver for Global Divers in Louisiana. He performs underwater repairs on offshore drilling rigs.
Below is an E-mail he sent to his sister. She then sent it to radio station 103.2 on FM dial in Ft. Wayne , Indiana , who was sponsoring a worst job experience contest. Needless to say, she won.
Hi Sue,
Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother.
Last week I had a bad day at the office. I know you've been feeling down lately at work, so I thought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it's not so bad after all .
Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job.
As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea. I wear a suit to the office. It's a wet suit. This time of year the water is quite cool. So what we do to keep warm is this: We have a diesel powered industrial water heater. This $20,000 piece of equipment sucks the water out of the sea. It heats it to a delightful temperature.
It then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose, which is taped to the air hose. Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I've used it several times with no complaints.
What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, is take the hose and stuff it down the back of my wet suit. This floods my whole suit with warm water. It's like working in a Jacuzzi.
Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my butt started to itch. So, of course, I scratched it .. This only made things worse. Within a few seconds my butt started to burn. I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was done. In agony I realized what had happened.
The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit. Now, since I don't have any hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn't stick to it However, the crack of my butt was not as fortunate.
When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into the crack of my butt.
I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the communicator. His instructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with five other divers, were all laughing hysterically.
Needless to say I aborted the dive. I was instructed to make three agonizing in-water decompression stops totaling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression. When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing but my brass helmet.
As I climbed out of the water, the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my butt as soon as I got in the chamber.
The cream put the fire out, but I couldn't poop for two days because my butt was swollen shut.
So, next time you're having a bad day at work, think about how much worse it would be if you had a jellyfish shoved up your butt.
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Talk about a pain in the arse.
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Talk about a pain in the arse.
Ouch. That one stung.