<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670</id><updated>2012-02-16T01:56:08.441-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun Pigh</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>26</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-115557567047771137</id><published>2006-08-14T10:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T10:14:30.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/1600/ShowLetter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/400/ShowLetter.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-115557567047771137?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/115557567047771137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/115557567047771137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/08/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-115261114416553306</id><published>2006-07-11T02:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T02:45:44.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/1600/football.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/400/football.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-115261114416553306?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/115261114416553306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/115261114416553306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/07/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-115151748826107387</id><published>2006-06-28T10:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-28T10:58:08.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/1600/image6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/400/image6.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Dad :  when I beat you how do you control your anger?&lt;br /&gt;Son :  I start cleaning the toilet&lt;br /&gt;Dad :  How does that satisfy you?&lt;br /&gt;Son :  I clean it with your toothbrush&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INTERVIEW : Imagine, in a closed room , how can you escape if it caught fire?&lt;br /&gt;Canditate   : Simple, stop imagining&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patient: Doctor, what I need is something to stir me up; something to put me in a fighting  mood. Did you put something like that in this prescription?&lt;br /&gt;Doctor : No need for that. You will find that in your bill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manager        : Sorry, but i can't give you a job. I don't need much help.&lt;br /&gt;Job Applicant:  That's all right. In fact I'm just the rightperson in this case. You see, I won't be of much help anyway!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diner   :  I can't eat such a rotten chicken.Call the manager!&lt;br /&gt;Waiter:  It's no use. He won't eat it either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Canadian, an Australian, and a Syrian are in a bar discussing the mental abilities of their wives.&lt;br /&gt;The Canadian says, "You know my wife must be the most stupid woman in the world. She went to a supermarket sale and bought $900 worth of meat, and we don't even have a freezer!"&lt;br /&gt;The Australian says, "That's nothing! My wife went out last week and bought a brand new $30,000 car, and she can't even drive!"&lt;br /&gt;Not to be out done, the Syrian says, "My wife is a lot dumber than that! Last week she left for a two week holiday in Beirut and I saw her pack 20 condoms! Hell, she doesn't even HAVE a penis!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-115151748826107387?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/115151748826107387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/115151748826107387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/06/dad-when-i-beat-you-how-do-you-control.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-115143362389737071</id><published>2006-06-27T11:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-27T11:40:23.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/1600/celebration5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/400/celebration5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/1600/celebration3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/400/celebration3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/1600/celebration2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/400/celebration2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/1600/celebration1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/400/celebration1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-115143362389737071?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/115143362389737071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/115143362389737071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/06/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-114803660741683238</id><published>2006-05-19T04:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-19T04:03:27.426-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A Lebanese walks into a bank in New York City and asks for the loan officer. He  says he's going to Europe on business for two weeks and needs to Borrow  $5,000.The bank Officer says the bank will need some kind of security for the  loan, so the Lebanese hands over the keys to a new Rolls Royce.The car is parked  on the street in front of the bank, he has the title and everything checks out.  The bank agrees to accept the car as collateral for the loan.The bank's  president and its officers all enjoy a Good laugh at theLebanese for using a  $250,000 Rolls as collateral against a $5,000 loan. An employee of the bank then  proceeds to drive theRolls into the bank's underground garage and parks it  there.Two weeks later, the Lebanese returns, repays the $5,000 and theinterest,  which comes to $15.41. The loan officer says, "Sir,we arevery happy to have had  your business, and thistransaction has worked out very nicely, but we are a  little puzzled.While you were away, we checked you out and found that you are a   multimillionaire. What puzzles us is, why wouldyou bother to borrow $5,000?"  .The Lebanese replies. "Where else in New York City can I park my carfor two  weeks for only $15.41 and expect it to be there when I return ? "&lt;br /&gt;I had to  send this one around! :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-114803660741683238?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/114803660741683238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/114803660741683238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/05/lebanese-walks-into-bank-in-new-york.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-114798320970837114</id><published>2006-05-18T13:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-18T13:13:29.720-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/1600/2chickens_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/400/2chickens_1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-114798320970837114?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/114798320970837114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/114798320970837114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/05/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-114579155947795920</id><published>2006-04-23T04:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T04:25:59.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/1600/secret20of20the20orange8pc0we.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/320/secret20of20the20orange8pc0we.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;How do you know if the orange is male or female?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-114579155947795920?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/114579155947795920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/114579155947795920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/04/how-do-you-know-if-orange-is-male-or.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-114418561475352624</id><published>2006-04-04T14:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T14:20:14.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/1600/NoAC.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/400/NoAC.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-114418561475352624?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/114418561475352624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/114418561475352624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/04/blog-post_04.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-114418504518732119</id><published>2006-04-04T14:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T14:11:44.226-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/1600/IdiotBlonde.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/400/IdiotBlonde.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-114418504518732119?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/114418504518732119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/114418504518732119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/04/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-114382051673036779</id><published>2006-03-31T07:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-31T07:55:20.246-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A man escapes from a prison where he has been kept for 15 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He breaks into a house to look for money and guns and finds a young couple in bed.&lt;br /&gt;The fugitive orders the guy out of bed and ties him to a chair, takes the woman and ties her to the bed. In the middle of  it, he gets on top of her, kisses her on the neck, then gets up and goes into the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While he's in there, the husband tells his wife: "Listen, this guy is an escaped prisoner, look at his clothes! He probably spent  lots of time in jail, and hasn't seen a woman in years. I saw how he kissed your neck.&lt;br /&gt;If he wants sex, don't resist, don't complain, do what he tells  you, just give him satisfaction, no matter how much he ravages you.&lt;br /&gt;This guy is probably dangerous. If he gets angry, he'll kill us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be  strong, honey. I love you".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To which the wife responds, "He wasn't kissing my neck. He was  whispering in my ear. He told me he was gay, thought you were  cute,  and asked if we kept any Vaseline in the   bathroom. I told him where  to find it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be strong, honey. I love you, too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-114382051673036779?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/114382051673036779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/114382051673036779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/03/man-escapes-from-prison-where-he-has.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-114284918069663665</id><published>2006-03-20T02:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-20T02:06:28.083-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Three guys, one Lebanese, one Syrian, and one Egyptian, are out walking along the beach together one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They come across a lantern and a Genie pops out of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I will give you each one wish, that's three wishes in total", says the Genie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Egyptian guy says, "I am a fisherman, my Dad's a fisherman, his Dad was a fisherman and my son will be one too. I want all the oceans full of fish for all eternity".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, with a blink of the Genie's eye "FOOM" the oceans were teaming with fish.&lt;br /&gt;The Syrian man was amazed, so he said, "I want a wall around Syria, protecting her, so that no one will harm us from Lebanon for all eternity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, with a blink of the Genie's eye "POOF" there was a huge wall around Syria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lebanese asks, "I'm very curious. Please tell me more about this wall".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Genie explains, "Well, it's about 150 feet high, 50 feet thick, protecting Syria so that nothing can get in or out".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lebanese man says, "Fill it up with water"...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-114284918069663665?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/114284918069663665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/114284918069663665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/03/three-guys-one-lebanese-one-syrian-and.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-114065496753718575</id><published>2006-02-22T16:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-22T16:36:07.550-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Maria a beautiful Latina fell in love with Jose. She planned to marry very  soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was so happy about her wedding plans; she decided to tell her papa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Papa told her, "Maria, you'll have to find another. Your Mother does not know this, but Jose is your half-brother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Maria forgot about her Jose, and soon planned to marry Ricardo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But after telling papa again, he said, "Maria there's trouble still.You cannot marry Ricardo, my darling. Please don't tell your mother,but Ricardo is your half-brother too."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maria had no choice but to go to her mama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama already knew and said "My darling, do what makes you happy. Marry Ricardo or marry Jose, because you are not related to Papa."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-114065496753718575?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/114065496753718575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/114065496753718575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/02/maria-beautiful-latina-fell-in-love.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-114019887480296291</id><published>2006-02-17T09:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-17T09:54:34.830-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A guy stuck his head into a barber shop and asked, "How long before I can get a haircut?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The barber looked around the shop full of customers and said, "About 2 hours." The guy left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days later the same guy stuck his head in the door and asked, "How long before I can get a haircut?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The barber looked around at the shop and said, "About 3 hours." The guy left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week later the same guy stuck his head in the shop and asked, How long before I can get a haircut?" The barber looked around the shop and said, "About an hour and half." The guy left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The barber turned to a friend and said, "Hey, Bill, do me a favor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Follow that guy and see where he goes. He keeps asking how long he has to wait for a haircut, but then he doesn't ever come back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little while later, Bill returned to the shop, laughing hysterically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The barber asked, "So where does that guy go when he leaves?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill looked up, tears in his eyes and said, "Your house."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-114019887480296291?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/114019887480296291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/114019887480296291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/02/guy-stuck-his-head-into-barber-shop.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-113977716890409840</id><published>2006-02-12T07:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-12T12:46:09.490-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/1600/Halalprinter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/320/Halalprinter.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/1600/r_chauffementplan_te.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/320/r_chauffementplan_te.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-113977716890409840?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113977716890409840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113977716890409840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/02/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-113953975713914281</id><published>2006-02-09T18:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T18:49:17.140-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>During the Investigation the police officer asked him:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to know how a volkswagon can kill 50 people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abu Abed : I'll tell you... I was driving the car down the road when I realized  that there was no brake in the car... I needed to stop the car and I saw a man walking alone on the right side and around 50 people on the left side...  Who should i hit ya abu abed the man alone or the 50 people? man alone or 50 people?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The police officer: of course the man walking alone"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abu Abed: you are damn right and that is what i did"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The police officer: but I cannot understand how did you kill those 50 people on the left side?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abu Abed: Because that damn guy when he saw me comming towards him started running away and went to the left side of the road"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-113953975713914281?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113953975713914281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113953975713914281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/02/during-investigation-police-officer.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-113953934632830329</id><published>2006-02-09T18:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T18:56:02.726-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last month, a world-wide survey was conducted by the UN.&lt;br /&gt;The only question asked was... :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"Would you please give your honest opinion about solutions to the food shortage in the rest of the world?"&lt;/blockquote&gt;The survey was a huge failure because...:&lt;br /&gt;In Africa they didn't know what "food" means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Eastern Europe they didn't know what "honest" means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Western Europe they didn't know what "shortage" means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In China they didn't know what "opinion" means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the Middle East they didn't know what "solution" means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In South America they didn't know what "please" means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the USA they didn't know what "the rest of the world" means.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-113953934632830329?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113953934632830329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113953934632830329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/02/last-month-world-wide-survey-was.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-113953897266004561</id><published>2006-02-09T18:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T19:07:23.566-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Little Johnny's father said, "let me see your report card."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Johnny replied, "I don't have it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why not?" His father asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My friend just borrowed it. He wants to scare his parents."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-113953897266004561?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113953897266004561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113953897266004561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/02/little-johnnys-father-said-let-me-see.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-113953881051705564</id><published>2006-02-09T18:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T18:33:30.530-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A Man was walking down a street when he heard a voice from behind,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you take one more step, a brick will fall down on your head and Kill you".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man stopped and a big brick fell right in front of him. The man was astonished.He went on, and after a while he was going to cross the road. Once again the voice shouted,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Stop! Stand still! If you take one more step a car will run over you, and you will die".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man did as he was instructed, just as a car came speeding around the corner, barely missing him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man asked. "Who are you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am your guardian angel," the voice answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, yeah?" the man asked "And where the hell were you when I got married?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-113953881051705564?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113953881051705564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113953881051705564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/02/man-was-walking-down-street-when-he.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-113882158002785760</id><published>2006-02-01T11:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T11:19:40.036-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>An old Italian Mafia Don is dying and he called his grandson to his bed. "Grandson I wanna you lisin to me. I want for you to  take my chrome plated 38 revolver so you will always remember me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But grandpa I really don't like guns, how about you leaving me your Rolex watch instead."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You lisina to me, soma day you goin a be runna da bussiness, you goina have a beautiful wife, lotsa  money, a big home and maybe a couple of bambino. Soma day you goina coma home and maybe finda your wife in bed with another man.. What  you gonna do then? Point to your watch and say TIMES UP?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-113882158002785760?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113882158002785760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113882158002785760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/02/old-italian-mafia-don-is-dying-and-he.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-113879164820154727</id><published>2006-02-01T03:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T03:00:48.200-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The children were lined up in the cafeteria of a Catholic elementary school for lunch. At the head of the table was a large pile of apples.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nun made a note, and posted on the apple tray: "Take only ONE.God is watching."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving further along the lunch line, at the other end of the table was a large pile of chocolate chip cookies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A child had written a note, "Take all you want. God is watching the apples.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-113879164820154727?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113879164820154727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113879164820154727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/02/children-were-lined-up-in-cafeteria-of.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-113879161791108868</id><published>2006-02-01T02:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T03:00:17.910-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A teacher was giving a lesson on the circulation of the blood. Trying to make the matter clearer, she said, "Now, class, if I stood on my head, the blood, as you know, would run into it, and I would turn red in the face.." "Yes," the class said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Then why is it that while I am standing upright in the ordinary position the blood doesn't run into my feet?" A little fellow shouted, "Bcos your feet is not empty."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-113879161791108868?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113879161791108868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113879161791108868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/02/teacher-was-giving-lesson-on.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-113879157094335011</id><published>2006-02-01T02:58:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T02:59:30.943-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The children had all been photographed, and the teacher was trying to persuade them each to buy a copy of the group picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just think how nice it will be to look at it when you are all grown up and say, 'There's Jennifer, she's a lawyer,' or 'That's Michael, He's a doctor.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A small voice at the back of the room rang out, "And there's the teacher, She's dead."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-113879157094335011?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113879157094335011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113879157094335011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/02/children-had-all-been-photographed-and.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-113879150398931234</id><published>2006-02-01T02:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T02:58:23.990-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>One day a little girl was sitting and watching her mother do the dishes at the kitchen sink. She suddenly noticed that her mother had several strands of white hair sticking out in contrast on her brunette head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked at her mother and inquisitively asked, "Why are some of your hair white, Mom?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her mother replied, "Well, every time that you do something wrong and make me cry or unhappy, one of my hair turns white."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girl thought about this revelation for a while and then said, "Momma, how come ALL of grandma's hair are white?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-113879150398931234?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113879150398931234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113879150398931234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/02/one-day-little-girl-was-sitting-and.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-113879147920222660</id><published>2006-02-01T02:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T02:57:59.203-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A Kindergarten teacher was observing her classroom of children while they were drawing. She would occasionally walk around to see each child's work. As she got to one little girl who was working diligently, she asked what the drawing was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girl replied, "I'm drawing God."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teacher paused and said, "But no one knows what God looks like."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without missing a beat, or looking up from her drawing, the girl replied, "They will in a minute."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-113879147920222660?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113879147920222660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113879147920222660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/02/kindergarten-teacher-was-observing-her.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-113879143228799636</id><published>2006-02-01T02:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T02:57:12.293-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A little girl was talking to her teacher about whales. The teacher said it was physically impossible for a whale to swallow a human because even though it was a very large mammal its throat was very small.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girl stated that Jonah was swallowed by a whale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Irritated, the teacher reiterated that a whale could not swallow a human; it was physically impossible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girl said, "When I get to heaven I will ask Jonah".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teacher asked, "What if Jonah went to hell?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girl replied, "Then you ask him".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-113879143228799636?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113879143228799636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113879143228799636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/02/little-girl-was-talking-to-her-teacher.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21485670.post-113818811705065422</id><published>2006-01-25T03:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-25T03:34:27.630-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Seat Belt&lt;br /&gt;The National Highway Safety Council has done extensive testing on a newly designed seat belt. Results show that accidents can be reduced by as much as 45% when the belt is properly installed. Correct installation is illustrated below...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/1600/ShowLetter.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7792/1755/320/ShowLetter.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;(Click on the picture to see animation!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; Thanks Alec!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21485670-113818811705065422?l=funpigh.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113818811705065422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21485670/posts/default/113818811705065422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://funpigh.blogspot.com/2006/01/seat-belt-national-highway-safety.html' title=''/><author><name>The student</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
