http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FzoXQKumgCw&feature=channel

"Hello, and welcome to the mental health hotline.

If you are obsessive-compulsive, press 1 repeatedly.

If you are co-dependent, please ask someone to press 2 for you.

If you have multiple personalities, press 3,4,5, and 6.

If you are paranoid, we know who you are and what you want. Stay on the line so we can trace your call.

If you are delusional, press 7 and your call will transferred to the mother ship.

If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a small voice will tell you which number to press.

If you are manic depressive, it doesn't matter which number you press, no one will answer.

If you have a nervous disorder, please fidget with the hash key until someone comes on the line.

If you are dyslexic, press 6969696969.

If you have amnesia, press 8 and state your name, address, phone number, date of birth, social security number, and your mother's maiden name.

If you have post-traumatic-stress disorder, slowly and carefully press 000.

If you have bipolar disorder, please leave a message after the beep, or before the beep, or after the beep. Please wait for the beep.

If you have short-term memory loss, press 9. If you have short term memory loss, press 9. If you have short term memory loss, press 9. If you have short term memory loss, press 9.

Here's a true story:
Once when I was selling cars, a buddy of mine had a very interesting experience with a sales call. The man on the phone was desperate to purchase a car. Typically these calls, referred to in the business as "lay-downs" (you can infer the double-meaning), are a little challenging on the saleperson's part to get approved. My buddy asked him for some information in order to submit a credit application. The man gave all the information required - name, address, income (his was from disability), etc. My buddy thanked the guy and told him it might take a couple of days, but not to submit any more credit apps (multiple inquiries tend to lessen one's chances of getting approved).

With a little work, the finance office got the guy approved. However, when my buddy went to call him back to let him know the good news, someone else answered the phone with these words - "Psych Ward"...

Ever since then we have recieved about 3-5 phone calls a day for an Ortin Christensen all from robots. Several robots had fake accents. (My favorite is the southern.)

The message goes on for about five minutes, saying if you are Ortin Christensen please press one now, if you are not Ortin Christensen, and you need a moment to retrieve him, please press two now, if... blah blah blah.... five minutes later...If there is no one by that name at this number, please press seven now and an operator will be right with you. This is very important information, please stay on the line.

So I press seven, and the phone rings and rings and rings, never going to a machine, or somewhere I can talk with a real person, and tell them, Ortin Christensen does not in fact live at this address, and is not availible at this number. Please stop calling, EXPECIALLY AFTER TEN P.M.!!

I tell you though, if I ever meet this Ortin fellow, I'm gonna punch him in the head.

"Can I speak to ___?"
"I'm sorry, there's no one in this office by that name. Are you sure you have the right number?"
"Office?"
"Yes, sir. This is a business number."
"Are you in Guatemala?"
"No, sir, this is Louisville, Kentucky."
"Oh." Embarassed chuckle. "I'm sorry." Hangs up.

The ultimate was when my wife was helping her dad butcher deer during hunting season. A Bill collector called, and she said, "I can't talk right now, I've got some bloody corpses on the floor!"

The strangest twist on this story is that I adored the phone when I was in college--racking up enormous phone bills--but now I can't think of anything I hate more. I've got an actual phobia of it, I think.

"Hello."

*voice is of an unfamiliar middle-aged man. I assume it is my friends Dad*

"Hi. Is Eric there? Could you tell him Frank called and I was won..."

"Hello?"

*I raise my voice a bit*

"Uh, yeah. I was saying this is Eric's friend Frank. We were supposed to get together to..."

"HELL-LO-OH!"

*I am now shouting*

"I'm Sorry. Is Eric there? I think the line must be bad. Could you tell him Frank..."

"Listen. I can barely hear you. Why don't you leave a message at the beep."

About twelve years ago, I was living in a stereotypical, southern, working-class neighborhood within the city. As I was getting in my car one morning, I looked directly across the street to see the bloody (skinless) carcass of some large beast hanging by a rope from a tree in front of my neighbor's house.

I got out and went to my backyard to make sure my dog was OK. He was. I went up to the street and stood there and debated what I should do. The movies Predator,The Serpent and the Rainbow, and The Godfather flashed across my mind. I ruled out 7 foot aliens, so I figured either someone was practicing voodoo against my neighbor or they were sending him "an offer he couldn't refuse".

I decided my best choice was not to get involved. That evening, when I returned home, I happened to see another neighbor, so I asked him about what I had seen. He got a good laugh!

Apparently, when hunters (which I obviously am not) return with their prey, they must drain the blood from the animal. They do this by somehow hanging the creature above the ground and letting the blood drip from it.

I don't know what surprised me more - that someone would actually choose to do this in the front yard of a crowded neighborhood in the city, or that this had more to do with the movie about the 7 foot alien than it did with my other two choices.

(edited to add "skinless")

I usually only drink milk, orange juice, or water. My husband makes the same lunch for me every day: P&J sandwich, milk, OJ, carrots, walnuts, spinach.

I used to give Origami animals instead of birthday cards.

My five year old son has moved on from chess and Monolopy, and is now mastering the game of Life. The last time I asked him what he wants to do when he grows up, he asked how he can make the most money. Sigh. So much for train diver and astronaut.

Currently I'm reading Honor's Reward, about how God commands us to honor (respect and value) all people in both attitude and action. Quite thought-provoking. If everyone was on-board, we'd have a perfect world...

My co-worker has no Send button on his email.

He got his Send button back.

If I didn't know better I would think that you must work with IB, and you took away his send button because of his jokes, but then you decided they weren't TOO bad, so you gave it back. Interesting.

Several years ago when my daughter was still a quick moving four-year old, I would head to the local blockbuster to pick up a couple of movies for the evening. Well the little one thought it would be a fun time to start running through the aisles and hiding from me. I would snatch her arm, she would promise to be good, and then run off giggling away for another round of irritate daddy. I caught her for the last time and pulled her into line with me for the register. That is when she went limp in my grip and started to shout 'Help! Help! You're a stranger. A stranger.'

Now I know more than a few people saw how hard of a time she was giving me in the store but not everyone did. Part of me wished that someone would have errored on the side of caution and called the police. It would have served her right. Unfortunetly for me, I was left in a difficult position. I so wanted to come unglued but she had me effectively in check. I fumed all the way home and told my wife what our angel did. Man did she have a laugh.

The embarassing memory I had was:

I was doing a guest spot in Tilton, New Hampshire, and this guy wanted to fill a thin strip on his shin, but didn't know what with. I--being a smart ass--suggested a flame shooting up his leg into an explosion cloud and a blue eye on either side. He looked at me dumbfounded, so I went further, "You know the joke about what color Christa McAuliffe's eyes are: Blue, one blew this way and one blew that way." Everybody in the tattoo shop went dead-silent.

That's when my wife leaned over and--in a whisper--asked me, "You did see the statue of her when we came into town...right?"

Do you want to edit the top four embarrasing moments post, or shall I?

They were so sweet, but a little risque for the kids.

To get you started, here is Jane’s tip:
“If you are able, donate blood to the Blood Bank. Blood donations help save lives.”

And here is Brenda’s advice:
“Where possible, walk instead of driving. The benefits are two-fold as you reduce your carbon footprint and get fit at the same time.”

So, since Jane's tip didn't really specify *human* blood, and Brenda's tip didn't really take into account that if you live 45km from work it's going to take you 11 hours to walk to work, a colleague decided to pitch his own 'tips'. Here's what he sent around...

1. If you are choking on an ice cube, don't panic! Simply pour a cup of boiling water down your throat and presto, the blockage will be almost instantly removed.

2. Clumsy? Avoid cutting yourself while slicing vegetables by getting someone else to hold them while you chop away.

3. Avoid arguments with the Mrs. about lifting the toilet seat by simply using the sink.

4. For high blood pressure sufferers: simply cut yourself and bleed for a few minutes, thus reducing the pressure in your veins. Remember to use a timer.

5. A mouse trap, placed on top of your alarm clock, will prevent you from rolling over and going back to sleep after you hit the snooze button.

6. If you have a bad cough, take a large dose of laxatives. Then you will be afraid to cough.

It's not that I am a chicken, I just have really small viens that tend to roll, or just expire when poaked. The viens in my husbands arms are huge, he can fill a bag in seven minutes.

I don't actually know what type my blood is...I have an assumption that since my parents were both type O, I am, too...but that's not an absolute certainty, from what I've read...

Sorry, but since this thread was the one who got the song stuck in my head, I decided to share. If you don't know it, it's to the tune of "Sipping Cider." Now you can have it stuck in your head too!

No joke - my mom has AB- and my dad has O+. And I actually look very much like my dad - very similar height (or lack thereof), build, and facial features (a baby switch is near impossible).

My college biology professor told me that I must either have a hidden A or B or I could have a mutant gene. I had a blood transfusion back in 2003, so I'm guessing I must be a mutant.