Chapter 300

This one is compliments of Chuck

Yesterday, I had a flat tire on Trans-Canada Highway. So I eased my car over to the shoulder of the road, carefully got out of the car and opened the trunk.

I took out 2 cardboard men, unfolded them and stood them at the rear of my car facing oncoming traffic.

They looked so life like you wouldn't believe it! They were in trench coats exposing their nude bodies to the approaching drivers.

To my surprise, cars started slowing down looking at my lifelike men which made it safer for me to work at the side of the road. And of course, traffic started backing up. Everybody was tooting their horns and waving like crazy.

It wasn't long before a police officer pulled up behind me. He got out of his car and started walking toward me. I could tell he was not a happy camper!

"What's going on here?"

"My car has a flat tire." I said calmly.

"Well," he asked, "what are those obscene cardboard men doing here by the road?"

I couldn't believe that he didn't know - so I told him, "Hellooo! Those are my emergency flashers!"

This one is compliments of RabbiRabbit

A businessman in the first class cabin decided to chat up the drop dead, gorgeous flight attendant.

"What is your name?"

Flight Attendant: "Angela Benz, sir"

Businessman: "Lovely name ... any relation to Mercedes Benz?"

Flight Attendant: "Yes sir, very close"

Businessman: "How close?"

Flight Attendant: "Same price"

Absolutely clever and oddly truthful this ought to take some of the curse out of it.

THE PULITZER COLONOSCOPY

ABOUT THE WRITER: Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for the Miami Herald.

Colonoscopy Journal:

I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy.

A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis.

Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner.

I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, 'HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BEHIND!'

I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called 'MoviPrep, ' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America's enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous.

Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor.

Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-litre plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water.

(For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a litre is about 32 gallons).

Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, 'a loose, watery bowel movement may result.'

This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.

This is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but, have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another litre of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.