Steaming Jokes

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    Writer's hell !

    Hot 5 years ago

    A writer died and St. Peter offered him the option of going to hell or to heaven. To help decide, he asked for a tour of each destination. St. Peter agreed and decided to take him to hell first. As he descended into the fiery pits, the writer saw row upon row of writers, chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they were repeatedly whipped with thorny lashes by demons. "Oh, my," the writer said, "let me see heaven."
    A few moments later, as they ascended into heaven, the writer saw row upon row of writers, chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they, too, were whipped with thorny lashes by demons.
    "Hey," the writer said, "this is just as bad as hell."
    "Oh, no it's not," St Peter replied, "here your work gets published!"

    A writer died and St. Peter offered him the option of going to hell or to heaven. To help decide, he asked for a tour of each destination. St. Peter agreed and decided to take him to hell first. As he descended into the fiery pits, the writer saw row upon row of writers, chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they were repeatedly whipped with thorny lashes by demons. "Oh, my," the writer said, "let me see heaven."
    A few moments later, as they ascended into heaven, the writer saw row upon row of writers, chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they, too, were whipped with thorny lashes by demons. "Hey," the writer said, "this is just as bad as hell."
    "Oh, no it's not," St Peter replied, "here your work gets published!"

    A writer died and was given the option of going to heaven or hell. She decided to check out each place first. As the writer descended into the fiery pits, she saw row upon row of writers chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they were repeatedly whipped with thorny lashes.
    "Oh my," said the writer. "Let me see heaven now."
    A few moments later, as she ascended into heaven, she saw rows of writers, chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they, too, were whipped with thorny lashes.
    "Wait a minute!" said the writer, "this is just as bad as hell."
    "Oh no, it's not," replied an unseen voice. "Here, your work gets published."

    Dear Diary,
    Monday;
    Now home from honeymoon and settled in our new home, it's fun to cook for Bill. Today I made an angel food cake and the recipe said, "Beat 12 eggs separately." Well, I didn't have enough bowls to do that, so I had to borrow enough bowls to beat the eggs in. The cake turned out fine.
    Tuesday;
    We wanted a fruit salad for supper. The recipe said, "Serve without dressing." So, I didn't dress. But, Bill happened to bring a friend home for supper that night. Did they ever look startled when I served the salad!
    Wednesday:

    I decided to serve rice and found a recipe which said, "Wash thoroughly before steaming the rice." So, I heated some water and took a bath before steaming the rice. Sounded kinda silly in the middle of the week. I can't say it improved the rice any.
    Thursday:

    Today Bill asked for salad again. I tried a new recipe. It said, "Prepare ingredients, then toss on a bed of more...

    A writer died and was given the option of going to heaven or hell.
    She decided to check out each place first. As the writer descended into the fiery pits, she saw row upon row of writers chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they were repeatedly whipped with thorny lashes.
    "Oh my," said the writer. "Let me see heaven now."
    A few moments later, as she ascended into heaven, she saw rows of writers, chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they, too, were whipped with thorny lashes.
    "Wait a minute," cried the writer. "This is just as bad as hell!"
    "Oh no, it's not," replied an unseen voice. "Here, your work gets published."

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