<?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-21854957</id><updated>2011-10-09T08:25:46.152-07:00</updated><category term='Communication'/><title type='text'>Pushpendra Dhansoia</title><subtitle type='html'>Hi,

Welcome to your daily dose of fun &amp; jokes. I have been mailing all these jokes for quite some time. Here you will have access to all the jokes, archived and preserved.....

Cheers
Dhansoia</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>51</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-2127857061576146011</id><published>2011-09-23T03:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-23T03:46:54.070-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Haryanvi Dictionary</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;font face="verdana"&gt;This is for all my friends who either wanted me to speak in Haryanvi or learn Haryanvi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aala: A low level shelving unit&lt;br /&gt;Aankh Dookhni: A viral/bacterial eye infection, no you can't fake this one easily!&lt;br /&gt;Aarta: A kodak moment for the best looking female of the host family&lt;br /&gt;Aldgoja: Flute, bansuri, aaj&lt;br /&gt;Andy/Andi: It falls in to the same category as daaki but a modernized one.&lt;br /&gt;Baankali : A serving made after the geets. It's the boiled chana with salt and very tasty.&lt;br /&gt;Baarothi: A cinderella moment for the bride&lt;br /&gt;Bachiya : Cow's female offspring&lt;br /&gt;Bachra: Cow's male offspring&lt;br /&gt;Bagad: An open inner courtyard&lt;br /&gt;Baggi: Bull cart&lt;br /&gt;Balad: Ox&lt;br /&gt;Baladh: Bull&lt;br /&gt;Baldakisu: Swear by ox!!!&lt;br /&gt;Baliyaan: Baniyaan&lt;br /&gt;Baraf: Local form of ice-cream&lt;br /&gt;Baroola: A earthen home made pitcher with wider mouth then panndha water pitcher&lt;br /&gt;Bateu: A generic term used for male guest and sometimes a synonym for jamaai&lt;br /&gt;Bathua: Weed , used for human consumption also in saag and raita&lt;br /&gt;Beejna: Hand fan&lt;br /&gt;Bharota: Bundle of jowar/bajra&lt;br /&gt;Bhojra: Small bushes generally in the corner of the field&lt;br /&gt;Bhoond: Bugs&lt;br /&gt;Bijaar: An abandoned bull&lt;br /&gt;Bilaangani: Wall to wall string to hang almost everything.&lt;br /&gt;Biloni: Earthen pot used to churn butter and make seet&lt;br /&gt;Bilutane: Kittens&lt;br /&gt;Bitoda : A triangular storage for gosay&lt;br /&gt;Bookal Marna: To wrap around to get cozy&lt;br /&gt;Botru: Baby male camel&lt;br /&gt;Buggi: Cart pulled by a jhotta&lt;br /&gt;Buhaari: Broom&lt;br /&gt;Bukhar: You have a high fever, perhaps malaria&lt;br /&gt;Chamassa: Rainy season/monsoon&lt;br /&gt;Chhaj: Used for cleaning of wheat&lt;br /&gt;Chhath: Roof&lt;br /&gt;Chhathi: Celebrated on the 6th day after the birth of a boy .&lt;br /&gt;Chhipkali: Lizard&lt;br /&gt;Chhuchhak: Like a baby shower in the west&lt;br /&gt;Chilaam: Earthen made sigar head hold tomacco and heat&lt;br /&gt;Chontry: A bench near your doorstep, birthplace of grapevine&lt;br /&gt;Choonghna: To chew&lt;br /&gt;Chooran: A homeopathic concoction for all ailments&lt;br /&gt;Choorma : A jat delicacy made of ghee, sugar and bread&lt;br /&gt;Chotkar: Chilka, peel&lt;br /&gt;Chubaara: Obra on the first floor&lt;br /&gt;Chukchunder: Bat&lt;br /&gt;Chulha Nyot: Everyone in the family is invited&lt;br /&gt;Chyanhni: Funeral place&lt;br /&gt;Daadas : Your husband's father's mother&lt;br /&gt;Daak: Jump&lt;br /&gt;Daaki: A mast guy who does great things are very popular&lt;br /&gt;Damhooi: Double headed snake&lt;br /&gt;Dandh: Teeth&lt;br /&gt;Dandri: Childs teeth&lt;br /&gt;Dangar : Animal stock&lt;br /&gt;Dheed: End product of eye infection or drainage&lt;br /&gt;Dheera: Headlice, big one ,adult louse&lt;br /&gt;Dhiday: Eye&lt;br /&gt;Dholaan: Plump baby girl&lt;br /&gt;Dhooma : Smoke&lt;br /&gt;Dhoti: Wrap skirt of tau&lt;br /&gt;Dilli Suba: A term commonly referred to jat villages around Delhi&lt;br /&gt;Doga/Baint: Tau's alter ego, a wooden stick&lt;br /&gt;Dola : Divider between fields&lt;br /&gt;Doob: Weed / grass&lt;br /&gt;Dtc: Mode of transportation for jat boys and girls from dilli&lt;br /&gt;Dust: Opposite of kabaj&lt;br /&gt;Eendhi: Small ring made of cloth to carry pot on the head&lt;br /&gt;Gaal: Gali, alley&lt;br /&gt;Gaawdi: Cow&lt;br /&gt;Gabha: Old, worn out clothes&lt;br /&gt;Gabsua: Safety pin&lt;br /&gt;Gandasa : Machine to cut fodder&lt;br /&gt;Gande: Sugarcane&lt;br /&gt;Gantha: A jat veggie delicacy, main dish,onion&lt;br /&gt;Geendo: Ball&lt;br /&gt;Geetan Aali: Lugaai with her congregation&lt;br /&gt;Ghaiti: Neck&lt;br /&gt;Ghoodchadhi : A kodak moment for the groom&lt;br /&gt;Gobar: Cow dung&lt;br /&gt;Gode : Knee&lt;br /&gt;Gojh: Pocket&lt;br /&gt;Gonda : Pathway between fields&lt;br /&gt;Goodad: Old, worn out clothes, turned into a mattress&lt;br /&gt;Goomdi: Mosquito bite turned septic&lt;br /&gt;Goothi : Ring&lt;br /&gt;Gosa: Dungcake (bit thick)&lt;br /&gt;Gosay : Jumbo size cow dung cake&lt;br /&gt;Guhera: Another type of chhipkali&lt;br /&gt;Gulafu : Cheeks&lt;br /&gt;Gunguna: Concentrated reet!&lt;br /&gt;Gusalkhana: Bathroom/restroom&lt;br /&gt;Guthali: Hard sheel seed in fruit&lt;br /&gt;Haara: A clay oven (uses gosay)&lt;br /&gt;Haart(Heart) Ki Beemari: O boy, this one needs attention!&lt;br /&gt;Hailey: Place to keep domestic animals and store harvest&lt;br /&gt;Harat : Persian wheel (for watering the fields)&lt;br /&gt;Harduaar: The ultimate health spa, and place for redumption of all sins&lt;br /&gt;Haryana : Birthplace of jat&lt;br /&gt;Haryana Roadways: Space shuttle that connects haryana with dilli suba, and paar&lt;br /&gt;Hooka : A community sigar of tau&lt;br /&gt;Jaadaa: Cold winters&lt;br /&gt;Jat: A handsome, brave, honest, hard working, stubborn, easily provoked, male of robust physique, found in Haryana, Paar, Dilli suba, and Rajasthan&lt;br /&gt;Jatni: A female form of the above - only more beautiful... Also known as lugaai&lt;br /&gt;Jeeli, Kassi, Kuhadi, Kasola: Agricultural implements also used as weapons at times&lt;br /&gt;Jeevda: Rope&lt;br /&gt;Jersey : Full sleeves sweater&lt;br /&gt;Jewda: The rope made of sann to tie jhotta aur baladh&lt;br /&gt;Jhaalra, Kanthi, Hasli: Jewellery, precious treasures of women&lt;br /&gt;Jhakoi: A good sambodhan in haryanwi for the guy who is not going according to one's will or similar&lt;br /&gt;Jhod: The village pond, swimming pool, and communal laundromat&lt;br /&gt;Jhoti: Buffalo&lt;br /&gt;Jhotta: Male buffalo&lt;br /&gt;Jimanwwar : Invitation of food party during marriages&lt;br /&gt;Joom: Mid size head lice - pupa&lt;br /&gt;Jukhaam: When reet starts flowing freely&lt;br /&gt;Jumpher: Shirt&lt;br /&gt;Jungle: Passage of stool...also known as number 1...&lt;br /&gt;Jurrab: Socks&lt;br /&gt;Kaag: Crow&lt;br /&gt;Kaatna: Make thread on charkha&lt;br /&gt;Kabaj : When you can't do jungle!&lt;br /&gt;Kaka: Uncle&lt;br /&gt;Kaki: Aunt&lt;br /&gt;Kalaash: Home made black eye color&lt;br /&gt;Karelkant: Chameleon&lt;br /&gt;Kassan : Utensil&lt;br /&gt;Katiya: Buffalo's daughter&lt;br /&gt;Katra: Buffalo's son&lt;br /&gt;Khaancha: Kichadd, when it gets slippery and muddy after rain&lt;br /&gt;Khaaj/Khasotni: Itching&lt;br /&gt;Khaat: Cot or chaarpaai (Typically, woven jute)&lt;br /&gt;Khaata Ghol : Process by which a favorite seasonal recipe (raabdi) is made&lt;br /&gt;Khaatee/Peetay Ghar Ka/Ki: A polite description of a plump boy/man/woman&lt;br /&gt;Khasra: Measles&lt;br /&gt;Khatooli: A smaller version of khaat&lt;br /&gt;Khausde: Old worn out shoes&lt;br /&gt;Khandaka: Turban of tau&lt;br /&gt;Khoota: You all know this, i hope&lt;br /&gt;Khooti: An in-built, multipurpose wooden hanger, found throughout the jat dwelling&lt;br /&gt;Kiwaad : Door&lt;br /&gt;Kolhu: Device to take out juice from sugarcane and make gud.&lt;br /&gt;Kootru : Dog&lt;br /&gt;Kudta/Jamphar: Designer shirt of tai&lt;br /&gt;Kui: Well a water reservior of house serves few people with nerrow mouth&lt;br /&gt;Kunda/Kundi: Door lock&lt;br /&gt;Kuwaad/Darwja : Door&lt;br /&gt;Lakad : Wood&lt;br /&gt;Lapsi: Dish&lt;br /&gt;Lath: Jat's missile defence system...a wooden log - if you see one run for your life...&lt;br /&gt;Latoor : Hairs&lt;br /&gt;Latte: Clothes&lt;br /&gt;Lattu Chasna: Switch on the light bulb&lt;br /&gt;Lawara: The young of buffalo or jhotta generally upto 4-5 months only&lt;br /&gt;Leetre (Khonsde): Worn out footwear&lt;br /&gt;Lhasi/Seet : Home made skimmed milk&lt;br /&gt;Lheekh: Nit -larva of head lice&lt;br /&gt;Lihaaf: Quilt or rajaai&lt;br /&gt;Londhon: As in england, description of an exotic place&lt;br /&gt;Maata: Chicken pox&lt;br /&gt;Mail Khora: Earthen made scrubber&lt;br /&gt;Meeh: Rain&lt;br /&gt;Mori: Same as patnaal&lt;br /&gt;Motijhaara: A childhood communicable disease&lt;br /&gt;Moulasara: Your husband' mother's, brother&lt;br /&gt;Muh Dikhai: A belated fee for the 3d view of the bride&lt;br /&gt;Munji: Kanjoos (miser)&lt;br /&gt;Naahu: Nails&lt;br /&gt;Naakasi: Kind of local prade of the groom around the village with songs&lt;br /&gt;Naariya: Ox&lt;br /&gt;Nakta-Nakti: A person having small nose&lt;br /&gt;Nandau : Your husband' sister's husband&lt;br /&gt;Nasti: Nose&lt;br /&gt;Nayonda: Invitation&lt;br /&gt;Neeju: Rope&lt;br /&gt;Neol: Mongoose&lt;br /&gt;Noon: Salt&lt;br /&gt;Nyaar: Fodder&lt;br /&gt;Nyam-Shyam: A free thing from the shopkeeper along with the bought material.&lt;br /&gt;Obra: Smaller room adjacent to saal&lt;br /&gt;Olay: Hails&lt;br /&gt;Oot: Naughty&lt;br /&gt;Paadkala: Staircase&lt;br /&gt;Paar: Another name for up&lt;br /&gt;Palpatton: Small grape size fruite&lt;br /&gt;Palwa: A small bowl with a long handle used to take hot milk out of 'kadhawni'&lt;br /&gt;Pandha: Earthen local made water pitcher&lt;br /&gt;Pansli Mai Darad : Reet has entered your lungs and you need to see a doctor&lt;br /&gt;Paras: Community resthouse of village&lt;br /&gt;Peedha: A smaller version of the Khaat, to sit on&lt;br /&gt;Phookni: Metal pipe used for blowing air in chulha&lt;br /&gt;Phupsara: Your husband' father's sister's husband&lt;br /&gt;Pilurae: Puppies&lt;br /&gt;Puni: Jab reet naak mein latka kare us ne puni kaha kare.&lt;br /&gt;Raach: Things.&lt;br /&gt;Raasa/Raasi: Home made rope&lt;br /&gt;Reet: Snort&lt;br /&gt;Rohtak : Lifeline of haryana "Texas"&lt;br /&gt;Saag: Vegetable&lt;br /&gt;Saakal : Door nob&lt;br /&gt;Saal/Dalaan: Master bedroom facing bagad&lt;br /&gt;Saangad: Pointed metal part of jeeli&lt;br /&gt;Saanni : A delicious mixtures of fodder for pets like jhotta, baladh etc&lt;br /&gt;Saanp: Snake&lt;br /&gt;Sagaai: Ring back guarantee is no longer effective&lt;br /&gt;Saud: Quilt&lt;br /&gt;Shyaana: Clever (but not popular) person&lt;br /&gt;Sir Mai Bhadak: Genuine headache&lt;br /&gt;Sir Mai Darad : Commonly used excuse&lt;br /&gt;Suthani : Underwear/shorts&lt;br /&gt;Suthra-Suthari: Handsome - beautiful&lt;br /&gt;Taand: A high level shelving unit in the saal&lt;br /&gt;Taang : Leg&lt;br /&gt;Taap: You don't have fever yet, but can use the excuse&lt;br /&gt;Tai : An elderly woman traveling along the same route as tau&lt;br /&gt;Taisara: Your husband's father's older brother&lt;br /&gt;Takthi: Slate children used to carry to school&lt;br /&gt;Tau: An elderly man, with lot of time on hand, often found traveling in haryana roadways, asking directions for Rohtak, Jind or Hissar&lt;br /&gt;Teekda: Jumbo chana bread&lt;br /&gt;Thaali: Large bowl used to cool and drink milk&lt;br /&gt;Thaansre: Dry fuel (hay) used in chulha&lt;br /&gt;Thepdi: Dungcake (bit thin)&lt;br /&gt;Thheka: Huge container to store grains&lt;br /&gt;Thoodi : Chin&lt;br /&gt;Tookani: Shiny (made with brass) designer water pitcher&lt;br /&gt;Tubal : Tubewell&lt;br /&gt;Yadi: Friend&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-2127857061576146011?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/2127857061576146011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=2127857061576146011' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/2127857061576146011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/2127857061576146011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2011/09/haryanvi-dictionary.html' title='Haryanvi Dictionary'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-3467217899149692229</id><published>2007-09-18T01:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T01:34:28.977-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How to answer the usual questions asked to Indians........</title><content type='html'>Are all Indians vegetarian?&lt;br /&gt;Yes. Even tigers are vegetarian in India.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does India have cars? No. We ride elephants to work. The government is trying to encourage ride-sharing schemes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does that red dot on women's forehead mean?&lt;br /&gt;Well, in ancient times, Indian men used to practice archery skills by target practicing by aiming at their wife's red dot. In fact, that is one of the reasons why they had many wives. You see, once they mastered the art of archery and hit the target....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does India have TV?&lt;br /&gt;No. We only have cable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you a Hindi?&lt;br /&gt;Yes. I am spoken everyday in Northern India.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you speak Hindu?&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I also speak Jewish, Islam and Christianity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it true that everyone there is very corrupt?&lt;br /&gt;Yes, in fact, I had to bribe my parents so that they would let me go to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;India is very hot, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;It is so hot there that all the water boils spontaneously. That is why tea is such a popular drink in India.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indians cannot eat beef, huh?&lt;br /&gt;Cows provide milk which is a very essential part of Indian diet. So eating cows is forbidden. However in order to decrease the population of the country, the government is trying to encourage everyone to eat human meat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do you sometimes wear Indian clothes to work?&lt;br /&gt;I prefer it to coming naked.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-3467217899149692229?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/3467217899149692229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=3467217899149692229' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/3467217899149692229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/3467217899149692229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2007/09/how-to-answer-usual-questions-asked-to.html' title='How to answer the usual questions asked to Indians........'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-7202790904043760806</id><published>2007-09-18T01:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T01:30:35.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Little Boy</title><content type='html'>A little boy got on the bus, sat next to a man reading a book, and noticed he had his collar on backwards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little boy asked why he wore his collar backwards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man, who was a priest, said. " I am a Father."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little boy replied. "My Daddy doesn't wear his collar like that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The priest looked up from his book and answered. "I am the Father of many."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy said. "My Dad has 4 boys, 4 girls and two grandchildren andhe doesn't wear his collar that way!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The priest, getting impatient, said. "I am the Father of hundreds" and went back to reading his book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little boy sat quietly thinking for a while, then leaned over and said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Maybe you should wear a condom and your pants backwards instead of your collar."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-7202790904043760806?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/7202790904043760806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=7202790904043760806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/7202790904043760806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/7202790904043760806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2007/09/little-boy.html' title='The Little Boy'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-7478308539515441227</id><published>2007-09-18T01:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T01:16:39.645-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A second opinion......</title><content type='html'>Man goes to the doctor complaining of constant headaches:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor said,  "Bill, the good news is I can cure your headaches. The bad news is that it will require castration. You have a very rarecondition, which causes your testicles to press on your spine and the pressure creates one hell of a headache. The only way to relieve thepressure is to remove the testicles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bill was shocked and depressed. He wondered if he had anything to live for. He had no choice but to go under the knife.  When he left thehospital, he was without a headache for the first time in 20 years, but he felt like he was missing an important part of himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he walked down the street, he realized that he felt like a different person. He could make a new beginning and live a new life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He saw a men's clothing store and thought, "That's what I need .. A new suit."  He entered the shop and told the salesman, "I'd like a newsuit."The elderly tailor eyed him briefly and said, "Let's see . Size 44 Long."Bill laughed, "That's right, how did you know?  "Been in the business 60 years!" the tailor said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill tried on the suit, it fit perfectly.As Bill admired himself in the mirror, the salesman asked, "How about a new shirt?" Bill thought for a moment and then said, "Sure." Thesalesman eyed Bill and said, "Let's see, 34 sleeves and 16-1/2 neck."Bill was surprised, "That's right, how did you know?" "Been in the business 60 years."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill tried on the shirt, and it fit perfectly. Bill walked comfortably around the shop, and the salesman asked, "How about some new underwear?"Bill thought for a moment and said, " Sure."  The salesman said,"Let's see...Size 36."Bill laughed, "Ah ha! I got you; I've worn a size 34 since I was 18 years old."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The salesman shook his head, "You can't wear a size 34.  A size 34 would press your testicles up against the base of your spine and giveyou one hell of a headache."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New suit - $400&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New shirt - $36&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New underwear - $6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second Opinion - PRICELESS&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-7478308539515441227?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/7478308539515441227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=7478308539515441227' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/7478308539515441227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/7478308539515441227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2007/09/second-opinion.html' title='A second opinion......'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-6942015281612438214</id><published>2007-09-18T01:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T01:11:38.117-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Age Fabrication</title><content type='html'>A lady is having a bad day at the roulette tables in Vegas.&lt;br /&gt;She's down to her last $50.&lt;br /&gt;Exasperated, she exclaims, "Only bad luck! What in the world should I do now?"&lt;br /&gt;A man standing next to her suggests, "I don't know... why don't you play your age?"&lt;br /&gt;He walks away.&lt;br /&gt;Moments later, his attention is grabbed by a great commotion at the roulette table.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe she won!&lt;br /&gt;He rushes back to the table and pushes his way through the crowd.&lt;br /&gt;The lady is lying limp on the floor, with the table operator kneeling over her.&lt;br /&gt;The man is stunned.&lt;br /&gt;He asks, "What happened?&lt;br /&gt;Is she all right?"&lt;br /&gt;The operator replies, "I don't know. She put all her money on 29, and 36 came up.&lt;br /&gt;Then she just fainted!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-6942015281612438214?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/6942015281612438214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=6942015281612438214' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/6942015281612438214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/6942015281612438214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2007/09/age-fabrication.html' title='Age Fabrication'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-753056784145271089</id><published>2007-07-09T21:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-09T21:23:28.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lie Detector</title><content type='html'>One day Kuttappan's dad bought a robot.    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The robot was special in that it could detect a lie and would slap the person who lied on the face.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kuttappan returned late from school that day and his dad asked him, " Son why are you late from school?".  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kuttappan answered, "Dad we had extra classes today".  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much to his astonishment the Robot jumped up and slapped Kuttappan on his face.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His dad told him "Mone (son) This robot is special in that he can detect a lie and will then slap the person who lied now come on tell me the truth, why are you late?"   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dad I went for a movie", " Which movie?" "The Ten Commandments", S-p-la-tt  Kuttappan got a tight slap on the face from the robot.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry dad..i lied again,  honestly I went for an adult movie ."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad: "Shame on you son when I was your age I never used to do such shameful things."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Splatt, the dad gets a tight slap on the face from the robot.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hearing all this, Kuttappan's mother comes walking out of the kitchen saying, "Athu pinne enginnenaa, ningalude monealle?" ( After all he is your son, he will be like you), to which the robot steps up and gives a resounding slap on Kuttappan's mother's face.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-753056784145271089?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/753056784145271089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=753056784145271089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/753056784145271089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/753056784145271089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2007/07/lie-detector.html' title='Lie Detector'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-4973223246578074499</id><published>2007-07-05T00:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-05T00:08:35.481-07:00</updated><title type='text'>KG's down in a day</title><content type='html'>One fat guy - goes to a popular GYM in Bangalore sees an ad for a new gym guaranteeing to reduce anyone's weight by 5, 10 or 20 kilograms on the first day. So he goes and tells them he wants to lose 5 kg. They lead him into a huge gym with all kinds of ropes and parallel bars and ladders and tell him to wait a minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's standing there when on the far side of the gym a door opens and out steps a beautiful girl, with a sign saying "If you catch me, I'm yours."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He starts running, and just as he gets close, she starts picking up speed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before he knows it, he's running all over the gym, up the ladders, down the ladders, across the parallel bars, here and there. And just as he's about to catch the blonde, pop, she disappears through a door. In comes the management who lead him to the showers, and then weigh him. Sure enough, he lost exactly 5kg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's back on the street and starts to think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"God, I was so close to catching her. If I had a little more time... So he races back to the gym and says, "I want to lose 20 more kg."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No problem," says the manager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again he is led to the large gym. This time he's standing by the door when it opens. Out comes a Gorilla with a sign, "If I catch you, you're mine."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-4973223246578074499?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/4973223246578074499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=4973223246578074499' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/4973223246578074499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/4973223246578074499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2007/07/kgs-down-in-day.html' title='KG&apos;s down in a day'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-4420736255075972668</id><published>2007-03-13T02:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-13T02:44:45.119-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Communication'/><title type='text'>Miscommunication</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i135.photobucket.com/albums/q138/pdhansoia/Miscommunication.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-4420736255075972668?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/4420736255075972668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=4420736255075972668' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/4420736255075972668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/4420736255075972668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2007/03/miscommunication.html' title='Miscommunication'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823398556549405</id><published>2006-09-14T04:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T04:39:45.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Best Break-Up Letter Ever</title><content type='html'>A soldier stationed in Afghanistan recently received a letter from his girlfriend back home. It read as follows: *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Ricky,&lt;br /&gt;I can no longer continue our relationship. The distance between us is just too great. I must admit that I have cheated on you twice, since you’ve been gone, and it’s not fair to either of us. I’m sorry. Please return the picture of me that I sent to you.&lt;br /&gt;Love, Becky…………..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The soldier, with hurt feelings, asked his fellow soldiers for any snapshots they could spare of their girlfriends, sisters or ex-girlfriends.In addition to the picture of Becky, Ricky included all the other pictures of the pretty gals he had collected from his buddies. There were 57 photos in that envelope…. along with this note:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Becky,*&lt;br /&gt;I’m so sorry, but I can’t quite remember who the hell you are. Please take your picture from the pile, and send the rest back to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823398556549405?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823398556549405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823398556549405' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823398556549405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823398556549405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/best-break-up-letter-ever.html' title='Best Break-Up Letter Ever'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823379077380674</id><published>2006-09-14T04:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T04:36:30.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coca Cola Ha-Ha-Ha!!! he he he he</title><content type='html'>A disappointed salesman of Coca Cola returns from his Middle East assignment. A friend asked, “Why weren’t you successful with the Arabs?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The salesman   explained, “When I got posted in the Middle East, I was very confident that I will makes a good sales pitch as Cola is virtually unknown there. But, I had a problem I didn’t know to speak Arabic. So, I planned to convey the message through 3 posters…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First poster, a man crawling through the hot desert sand… totally exhausted and panting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, the man is drinking our Cola and Third, our man is now totally refreshed. Then these posters were pasted all over the place”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That should have worked,” said the friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The salesman replied, “Well, not only did I not know how to speak Arabic, I also didn’t realize that Arabs read from right to left…”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823379077380674?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823379077380674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823379077380674' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823379077380674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823379077380674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/coca-cola-ha-ha-ha-he-he-he-he.html' title='Coca Cola Ha-Ha-Ha!!! he he he he'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823364752648516</id><published>2006-09-14T04:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T04:34:07.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bored at office?</title><content type='html'>If you find it very boring in the office, here are some tips:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Form a detective agency to find out who is quitting next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Make blank calls to your Boss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Send mails from lotus notes (outlook) to your internet mail (and immediately get to the internet and see who reaches first, you or your mail?) and read them there, and note down the time they take to reach there. Then do vice versa…………. !!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Rearrange the furniture, i.e. flick someone else’s chair just to irritate him/her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Count your fingers (and toes if you still get bored).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Watch other people changing their facial ex-pressions while working and try changing your ex-pressions also.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Try to stretch status meetings as longer as possible, just by asking silly doubts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Make faces at strangers in office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Have a two hour lunch; it’s a big social occasion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Learn to whistle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Revise last week’s newspaper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Hold “How fast my computer boots” competitions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Practice aiming the coffee cup into the dustbin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Compile “How to waste your day”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Pick up phone and dial non-existing nos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Have work breaks in between tea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Count maximum no of applications your computer can open at time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. For Win NT/95 users….Move things to Recycle bin and restore them..Then repeat this process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Look at someone &amp; try to imagine how(s) he might have looked when(s) he was 5 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Read jokes and send jokes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Make full use of the comfortable chair and table provided and take a nap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you are still getting bored…………………….then&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Fwd this mail to everyone u know ?.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823364752648516?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823364752648516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823364752648516' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823364752648516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823364752648516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/bored-at-office.html' title='Bored at office?'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823357871150564</id><published>2006-09-14T04:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T04:32:58.713-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How 2 answer an interview</title><content type='html'>A lot of people know how to write a resume and talk their way into an&lt;br /&gt;interview. But when they get into the make or break dialogue, they&lt;br /&gt;stumble upon tough questions. Below, is some advice on approaching the&lt;br /&gt;tough questions that interviewers like to throw at job applicants:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did you leave your last job?&lt;br /&gt;Real answer: It sucked.&lt;br /&gt;What you should say: I felt my talents and abilities were underutilized.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are your biggest weaknesses?&lt;br /&gt;Real answer: I can’t concentrate for more than five minutes, hate all&lt;br /&gt;forms of authority and tend to fall asleep at my desk.&lt;br /&gt;What you should say: I’m a workaholic. I just don’t know when to put&lt;br /&gt;down my work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don’t seem to hold on to a job long. Why should we think you’ll&lt;br /&gt;stay here any longer than you’ve stayed elsewhere?&lt;br /&gt;Real answer: My employers have always had a hang-up about keeping only&lt;br /&gt;competent employees..&lt;br /&gt;What you should say: I’m at a point in my career where I am tired of&lt;br /&gt;moving around. I really want to feel part of a team, a long-term&lt;br /&gt;enterprise, where I can make a contribution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all those of u aiming for job switches……………&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you handle change?&lt;br /&gt;Real answer: I deal with it everyday, unless I’m out of clean underwear.&lt;br /&gt;What you should say: I think everyone knows that today the only&lt;br /&gt;constant is change. I thrive on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you get along with others?&lt;br /&gt;Real answer: Fine, as long as they stay out of my face.&lt;br /&gt;What you should say: I think the interpersonal dynamics of the&lt;br /&gt;workplace can be among the most satisfying aspects of any job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does the word success mean to you?&lt;br /&gt;Real answer: It means that I don’t have to drag my sorry ass out of&lt;br /&gt;bed to kiss yours.&lt;br /&gt;What you should say: Success, for me, would be knowing I am making a&lt;br /&gt;difference working with a team of people to make a more profitable&lt;br /&gt;enterprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does the word failure mean to you?&lt;br /&gt;Real answer: It means I continue to collect unemployment insurance.&lt;br /&gt;What you should say: Failure? I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.&lt;br /&gt;That word is not in my vocabulary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you get along with your current boss?&lt;br /&gt;Real answer: I get along fine, considering what kind of a malicious&lt;br /&gt;person he is.&lt;br /&gt;What you should say: I don’t think I’d call him a boss; he’s been more&lt;br /&gt;of a mentor to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you ever get angry with co-workers?&lt;br /&gt;Real answer: I don’t get angry, I get even.&lt;br /&gt;What you should say: Nothing angers me more than to see a co-worker&lt;br /&gt;not pulling his weight, goofing off or stealing. Yes, sometimes I do&lt;br /&gt;get angry with co-workers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I contact your references?&lt;br /&gt;Real answer: Sure, but they won’t know who I am.&lt;br /&gt;What you should say: Some of them are out of the country right now.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I can arrange to have them contact you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823357871150564?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823357871150564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823357871150564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823357871150564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823357871150564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/how-2-answer-interview.html' title='How 2 answer an interview'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823349882421825</id><published>2006-09-14T04:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T04:31:38.826-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Top 10 most stupid questions people usually ask in obvious situations</title><content type='html'>1. At the movies: When you meet acquaintances/friends…&lt;br /&gt;Stupid Question:- Hey, what are you doing here?&lt;br /&gt;Answer:- Dont u know, I sell tickets in black over here..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. In the bus: A heavy lady wearing pointed high-heeled shoes steps on your feet…&lt;br /&gt;Stupid Question:- Sorry, did that hurt?&lt;br /&gt;Answer:- No, not at all, I’m on local anesthesia…..why don’t you try again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. At a funeral: One of the teary-eyed people ask…&lt;br /&gt;Stupid Question:- Why, why him, of all people.&lt;br /&gt;Answer:- Why? Would it rather have been you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. At a restaurant: When you ask the waiter&lt;br /&gt;Stupid Question:- Is the “Butter Paneer Masala” good??&lt;br /&gt;Answer:- No, its terrible and made of adulterated cement.&lt;br /&gt;We occasionally also spit in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. At a family get-together: When some distant aunt meets you after years&lt;br /&gt;Stupid Question:-Munna,Chickoo, you’ve become so big.&lt;br /&gt;Answer:- Well you haven’t particularly shrunk yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. When a friend announces her wedding, and you ask…&lt;br /&gt;Stupid Question:- Is the guy you’re marrying good?&lt;br /&gt;Answer:- No,he’s a miserable wife-beating isensitive lout…it’s just the money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. When you get woken up at midnight by a phone call…&lt;br /&gt;Stupid Question:- Sorry. were you sleeping?&lt;br /&gt;Answer:- No. I was doing research on whether the Zulu tribes in Africa marry or not. You thought I was sleeping…. you dumb witted moron.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. When you see a friend/colleague with evidently shorter hair…&lt;br /&gt;Stupid Question:- Hey have you had a haircut?&lt;br /&gt;Answer:- No, its autumn and I’m shedding……&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. At the dentist when he’s sticking pointed objects in your mouth…&lt;br /&gt;Stupid Question:- Tell me if it hurts?&lt;br /&gt;Answer:- No it wont. It will just bleed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. You are smoking a cigarette and a cute woman in your office asks…&lt;br /&gt;Stupid Question:- Oh, so you smoke.&lt;br /&gt;Answer:- Gosh, it’s a miracle …………it was a piece of chalk and now it’s in flames!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823349882421825?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823349882421825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823349882421825' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823349882421825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823349882421825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/top-10-most-stupid-questions-people.html' title='Top 10 most stupid questions people usually ask in obvious situations'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823335390072392</id><published>2006-09-14T04:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T04:29:13.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Some laws and theorems….funny</title><content type='html'>Lorenz’s Law of Mechanical Repair:&lt;br /&gt;After your hands become coated with grease, your nose will begin to itch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anthony’s Law of the Workshop:&lt;br /&gt;Any tool, when dropped, will roll to the least accessible corner. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kovac’s Theorem:&lt;br /&gt;When you dial a wrong number, you never get an engaged one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cannon’s Karmic Law:&lt;br /&gt;If you tell the boss you were late for work because you had a flat tire, the next morning you will have a flat tire. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O’brien’s Variation Law:&lt;br /&gt;If you change queues, the one you have left will start to move faster than the one you are in now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BELL’S THEOREM&lt;br /&gt;When the body is immersed in water, the telephone rings. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RUBY’S PRINCIPLE OF CLOSE ENCOUNTERS&lt;br /&gt;The probability of meeting someone you know increases when you are with someone you don’t want to be seen with. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILLOUGHBY’S LAW&lt;br /&gt;When you try to prove to someone that a machine won’t work, it will. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZADRA’S LAW OF BIOMECHANICS&lt;br /&gt;The severity of the itch is inversely proportional to the reach. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WEN’S LAW&lt;br /&gt;As soon as you sit down to a cup of hot coffee, your boss will ask you to do something which will last until the coffee is cold.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823335390072392?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823335390072392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823335390072392' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823335390072392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823335390072392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/some-laws-and-theoremsfunny.html' title='Some laws and theorems….funny'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823326565498611</id><published>2006-09-14T04:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T04:27:45.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Inspire….</title><content type='html'>Officials rejected a candidate for a news broadcasters post Since his voice was not fit for a news broadcaster.&lt;br /&gt;He was also told that with his obnoxiously long name, He would never be famous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is Amitabh Bachchan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;——————————————-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1962, four nervous young musicians played their first record audition For the executives of the Decca Recording Company. The executives were not impressed. While turning down this group of musicians, One executive said, “We don’t like! Their sound. Groups of guitars are On the way out .”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The group was called The Beatles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;——————————————–&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1944, Emmeline Snively, director of the Blue Book Modeling Agency Told modeling hopeful Norma Jean Baker, “You’d better learn secretarial work or else get married “.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She went on and became Marilyn Monroe .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;———————————————-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1954, Jimmy Denny, manager of the Grand Ole Opry, Fired a singer after one performance. He told him, “You ain’t goin’ nowhere son. You ought to go back to drivin’ a truck “.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He went on to become Elvis Presley .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;– - ——————————————–&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A small boy–the fifth amongst seven siblings of a poor father, Was selling newspapers in a small village to earn his living. He was not exceptionally smart at school but was fascinated by Religion and rockets.&lt;br /&gt;The first rocket he built crashed. A missile that he built crashed Multiple times And he was made a butt of ridicule.&lt;br /&gt;He is the person to have scripted the Space Odyssey of India Single-handedly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam. President of India.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;——————————————-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone in 1876, It did not ring off the hook with calls from potential backers.&lt;br /&gt;After making a demonstration call, President Rutherford Hayes said, “That’s an amazing invention, but who would ever want to see one of them ?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;——————————————-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Thomas Edison invented the light bulb, He tried over 2000 experiments before he got it to work.&lt;br /&gt;A young reporter asked him how it felt to fail so many times.&lt;br /&gt;He said, “I never failed once. I invented the light bulb.&lt;br /&gt;It just happened to be a 2000-step process “.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;——————————————-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the 1940s, another young inventor named Chester Carlson Took his idea to 20 corporations, including some of the biggest in The country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They all turned him down. In 1947, after 7 long years of rejections, He finally got a tiny company in Rochester, NY, the Haloid Company, To purchase the rights to his invention–an electrostatic Paper-copying process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haloid became Xerox Corporation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;——————————————&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little girl–the 20th of 22 children, Was born prematurely and her survival was doubtful. When she was 4 years old, She contracted double pneumonia and scarlet fever, Which left her with aparalyzed left leg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At age 9, she removed the metal leg brace she had been dependent on And began to Walk without it. By 13 she had developed a rhythmic walk, Which doctors said was a miracle. That same year she decided to become a runner. She entered a race and came in last. For the next few years every Race she entered, She came in last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone told her to quit, but she kept on running. One day she Actually won a race.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then another. From then on she won every race she entered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually this little girl– Wilma Rudolph , went on to win three Olympic gold medals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;—————————————-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A schoolteacher scolded a boy for not paying attention to his mathematics And for not being able to solve simple problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She told him that you would not become anybody in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy was Albert Einstein&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*He Rescues The Birds *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once, while riding through the country with some other lawyers, Abraham Lincoln was missed from the party, and was seen loitering near a thicket of wild plum trees where the men had Stopped a short time before to water their horses.&lt;br /&gt;” Where is Lincoln?” asked one of the lawyers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;” When I saw him last,” answered another, ” he had caught two young birds that the wind had blown out of their nest, and was hunting for the nest to put them back again .”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Lincoln joined them, the lawyers rallied him on his tender-heartedness, and he said: — ” I could not have slept unless I had restored those little birds to their mother .”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;———————————–&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Growing Older *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was well along in years, his hair was white but he Was still a vigorous man. Someone asked him why this was so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The poet pointed to an apple tree in bloom and said, ” That tree is very old, but I never saw prettier blossoms on it that it now bears. That tree grows new wood each year. Like that apple tree, I try to grow a little new wood each year.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;———————————–&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Be A Better Person *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Young student approached the famous French scientist and philosopher, Blaise Pascal, and declared, ” If I had your brains, I would be a better person .”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pondering the depth of that statement, Pascal paused momentarily before replying, ” Be a better person, and you will have my brains.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;—————————————–&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823326565498611?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823326565498611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823326565498611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823326565498611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823326565498611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/inspire.html' title='Inspire….'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823312266346771</id><published>2006-09-14T04:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T04:25:22.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'>99 ka fer…</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time, there lived a King who, despite his luxurious lifestyle, was neither happy nor content.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day, the King came upon a servant who was singing happily while he worked. This fascinated the King; why was he, the Supreme Ruler of the Land, unhappy and gloomy, while A lowly servant had so much joy. The King asked the servant, “Why are you so happy?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man replied, “Your Majesty, I am nothing but a servant, but my family and I don’t need too much - just a roof over our heads and warm food to fill our tummies .”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The king was not satisfied with that reply. Later in the day, he sought the advice of his most trusted advisor. After hearing the King’s woes and the servant’s story, the advisor said, ” Your Majesty, I believe that the servant has not been made part of The 99 Club.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The 99 Club? And what exactly is that?” the King inquired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The advisor replied, “Your Majesty, to truly know what The 99 Club is, place 99 Gold coins in a bag and leave it at this servant’s doorstep.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the servant saw the bag, he took it into his house. When he opened the bag, he let out a great shout of joy… So many gold coins!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He began to count them. After several counts, he was at last convinced that there were 99 coins. He wondered, ” What could’ve happened to that last gold coin? Surely, no one would leave 99 coins! ”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked everywhere he could, but that final coin was elusive. Finally, exhausted, he decided that he was going to have to work harder than ever to earn that gold coin and complete his collection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From that day, the servant’s life was changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was overworked, horribly grumpy, and castigated his family for not helping him make that 100th gold coin. He stopped singing while he worked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Witnessing this drastic transformation, the King was puzzled. When he sought his advisor’s help, the advisor said, ” Your Majesty, the servant has now officially joined The 99 Club. ”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He continued, “The 99 Club is a name given to those people who have enough to be happy but are never contented, because they’re always yearning and striving for that extra 1 telling to themselves: “Let me get that one final thing and then I will be happy for life .”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can be happy, even with very little in our lives, but the minute we’re given something bigger and better, we want even more! We lose our sleep, our happiness, we hurt the people around us; all these as a price for our growing needs and desires. That’s what joining The 99 Club is all about.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823312266346771?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823312266346771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823312266346771' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823312266346771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823312266346771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/99-ka-fer.html' title='99 ka fer…'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823307165052738</id><published>2006-09-14T04:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T04:24:31.653-07:00</updated><title type='text'>IF Bollywood Film star work for call centre</title><content type='html'>If Bollywood Film star work for call centers…….. Imagine the calls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amitabh: Thank you for calling customer care… rishte mein to hum tumhare baap lagate hian filhaal ek customer care rep hain…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer: (angrily) I NEED YOUR MANAGER&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amitabh: Jaao pehle uske manager ko laao jisne mere baap ko chor kaha tha.. Jaao pehle uske manager ko laao jisne meri maa ko gaali dekar naukri se nikaal diya tha.. Jaao pehle uske manager ko laao jisne mere haath pe yeh likh diya tha… uske baad uske baad mere bhai.. Tum jis manager ko kahoge main laaonga.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dharmendra: Thank you for calliiiiingg..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer: I need help&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dharmendra: main aaraahoon maa…….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer: I am unable to use your product… its waste and worthless&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dharmendra: Kutte mein tera khoon peejaaonga..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer: What!!! I need your manager&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dharmendra: (To his manager) Manager is customer ke saamne nahi naachna&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shatru : Aaaaaiiin Kis ullllu ke patthe ne call kiya hai…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer : How dare you speak like that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shatru : Khaaaamoshhhhh… seedhi tarah bolde issue kya hai warna… haaaaaaaaa!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asrani: hahhaaaaaaa naya kabutar ne call kiya&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer: I lost my invoice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asrani : Hahhaaaaaaaa hamare jasoos kone kone mein phaile hue hain miljayegi hum angrezon ke zamaane ke rep hain..haahhaaa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kestu Mukherji: Iiiiiihhhhye….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer: hi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kestu Mukherji : iiiihhhyeee tumko ….tumko kya problem hai&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer : I have not received my product&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kestu Mukherji : To saale (hicup) main kya karoon.. Police mien report likha…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bindu: Shabnam naam hai mera… pyar se log shabbo bolte hain..bolo main  tumhare kis kaam aasakti hoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shakti: AAAuuuuuu…mera naam hai balllllllllma. Thank you for calling aaauuuuu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer: I need your manager&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shakti: Mujhse baat karona.. Main ek chhota sa, nanha sa, pyarasa…rep hooon..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mehmood: Ayyo Dyevi … thank youji for calling ji.. Ayyo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer : I am not devi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mehmood : Ayyo muruga… ye dyevi nai ji … ye to dyeva hai…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ajit: Saara shehar mujhe Lion ke naam se jaanta hai….. May I know your name please&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer : Mona&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ajit: Mona darling… tumne hamein call kyun kiya&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer : (Angrily) I WANT YOUR MANAGER&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ajit: Mona dear.. Agar hum tumhe hamara manager dedenge to hamein manage kaun karega….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gabbar : HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ….Jo dargaya wo maraga… batao tumhen kya chahiye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer : I want to buy a product from your company&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gabbar: Kitne paise hai re&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer : $ 10.00&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gabbar: Suvvar Ke baccho … sirf… $10.00…dhikkaar hai&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prem Chopra: Prem…Prem naam hai mera.. Prem chopra…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer : I lost my invoice I need one&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prem Chopra: Kar bhalaa to ho bhalaa..jaa apni invoice khud dhoondle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rajkumar : Jaani ….. Tumhara ye call bahut keemti hai.. Ise cut mat karna&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer: I lost my invoice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rajkumar: Jaani… ye invoice hai.. Bacchon ke khelne ki cheez nahi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer : shut up.. I need my invoice sent to me in 10 minutes… otherwise I will speak to your manager&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rajkumar : Dhamki kisi aur ko jaakar dena… manager humko darasake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;manager mein itna dum nahi… humse hai manager… manager se hum nahi…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And at last ………………&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sharukh: Thank you for kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Customer hung up the phone….&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823307165052738?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823307165052738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823307165052738' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823307165052738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823307165052738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/if-bollywood-film-star-work-for-call.html' title='IF Bollywood Film star work for call centre'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823289726319057</id><published>2006-09-14T04:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T04:21:37.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A different sardar</title><content type='html'>A Sardarji and his wife are traveling by car from Key West to Boston.After almost twenty-four hours on the road, they’re too tired to continue,and they decide to stop for a rest. They stop at a nice hotel and take a room, but they only plan to sleep for four hours and then get back on the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they check out four hours later, the desk clerk hands them a bill for $350. The Sardarji explodes and demands to know why the charge is so high. He tells the clerk although it’s a nice hotel, the rooms certainly aren’t worth $350. When the clerk tells him $350 is the standard rate, the maninsists on speaking to the Manager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Manager appears, listens to the Sardarji, and then explains that the hotel has an Olympic-sized pool and a huge conference center that were available for the husband and wife to use.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we didn’t use them”, the Sardarji complains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, they are here, and you could have,” explains the Manager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He goes on to explain they could have taken in one of the shows for which the hotel is famous. “The best entertainers from New York, Hollywood and Las Vegas perform here,” the Manager says But we didn’t go to any of those shows,” sardarji complains again .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, we have them, and you could have”, the Manager replies. No matter what facility the Manager mentions, the sardarji replies “But we didn’t use it”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Manager is unmoved, and eventually the Sardarji finally gives up and agrees to pay. He writes a check and gives it to the Manager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Manager is surprised when the looks at the check. “But sir,” he says, “this check is only made out for $1.00″&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That’s right,” says the sardarji, “I charged you $349 for sleeping with my wife.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“But I didn’t!” exclaims the Manager. “Well,” the Sardarji replies, “she was here, and you could have.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823289726319057?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823289726319057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823289726319057' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823289726319057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823289726319057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/different-sardar.html' title='A different sardar'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823275821992899</id><published>2006-09-14T04:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T04:19:18.220-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tech Support</title><content type='html'>A plain computer illiterate guy rings tech support to report that this computer is faulty.&lt;br /&gt;Tech: What’s the problem?&lt;br /&gt;User: There is smoke coming out of the power supply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tech: You’ll need a new power supply.&lt;br /&gt;User: No, I don’t! I just need to change the startup files.&lt;br /&gt;Tech: Sir, the power supply is faulty. You’ll need to replace it.&lt;br /&gt;User: No way! Someone told me that I just needed to change the startup and it will fix the problem! All I need is for you to tell me the command.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 minutes later&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the User is still adamant that he is right. The tech is frustrated and fed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tech: Sorry, Sir. We don’t normally tell our&lt;br /&gt;Customers this, but there is an undocumented DOS command that will fix the problem.&lt;br /&gt;User: I knew it!&lt;br /&gt;Tech: Just add the line LOAD NOSMOKE.COM at the end of the&lt;br /&gt;CONFIG.SYS. Letme know how it goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 minutes later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;User: It didn’t work. The power supply is still smoking.&lt;br /&gt;Tech: Well, what version of DOS are you using?&lt;br /&gt;User: MS-DOS 6.22.&lt;br /&gt;Tech: That’s your problem there. That version of DOS didn’t come with NOSMOKE. Contact Microsoft and ask them for a patch that will give you the file. Let me know how it goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 hour later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;User: I need a new power supply.&lt;br /&gt;Tech: How did you come to that conclusion?&lt;br /&gt;User: Well, I rang Microsoft and told him about what you said, and he started asking questions about the make of power supply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tech: Then what did he say?&lt;br /&gt;User: He told me that my power supply isn’t compatible with NOSMOKE.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823275821992899?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823275821992899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823275821992899' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823275821992899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823275821992899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/tech-support.html' title='Tech Support'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823264753836246</id><published>2006-09-14T04:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T04:17:27.540-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Something Wild….</title><content type='html'>An old man was sitting on a bench at the mall. A young man walked up to the bench and sat down. He had spiked hair in all different colors; Green,Red, Orange, Blue, and Yellow. The old man just stared and stared. Everytime the young man looked, the old man was staring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The young man finally said sarcastically, “What’s the matter old timer, never done anything wild in your life?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without batting an eye, the old man replied, “Got drunk once and had made love with a peacock. I was wondering if you were my son.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823264753836246?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823264753836246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823264753836246' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823264753836246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823264753836246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/something-wild.html' title='Something Wild….'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823244105610918</id><published>2006-09-14T04:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T04:14:01.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beauty of Maths!</title><content type='html'>1 x 8 + 1 = 9&lt;br /&gt;12 x 8 + 2 = 98&lt;br /&gt;123 x 8 + 3 = 987&lt;br /&gt;1234 x 8 + 4 = 9876&lt;br /&gt;12345 x 8 + 5 = 98765&lt;br /&gt;123456 x 8 + 6 = 987654&lt;br /&gt;1234567 x 8 + 7 = 9876543&lt;br /&gt;12345678 x 8 + 8 = 98765432&lt;br /&gt;123456789 x 8 + 9 = 987654321&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 x 9 + 2 = 11&lt;br /&gt;12 x 9 + 3 = 111&lt;br /&gt;123 x 9 + 4 = 1111&lt;br /&gt;1234 x 9 + 5 = 11111&lt;br /&gt;12345 x 9 + 6 = 111111&lt;br /&gt;123456 x 9 + 7 = 1111111&lt;br /&gt;1234567 x 9 + 8 = 11111111&lt;br /&gt;12345678 x 9 + 9 = 111111111&lt;br /&gt;123456789 x 9 +10= 1111111111&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9 x 9 + 7 = 88&lt;br /&gt;98 x 9 + 6 = 888&lt;br /&gt;987 x 9 + 5 = 8888&lt;br /&gt;9876 x 9 + 4 = 88888&lt;br /&gt;98765 x 9 + 3 = 888888&lt;br /&gt;987654 x 9 + 2 = 8888888&lt;br /&gt;9876543 x 9 + 1 = 88888888&lt;br /&gt;98765432 x 9 + 0 = 888888888&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brilliant, isn’t it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally, take a look at this symmetry:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 x 1 = 1&lt;br /&gt;11 x 11 = 121&lt;br /&gt;111 x 111 = 12321&lt;br /&gt;1111 x 1111 = 1234321&lt;br /&gt;11111 x 11111 = 123454321&lt;br /&gt;111111 x 111111 = 12345654321&lt;br /&gt;1111111 x 1111111 = 1234567654321&lt;br /&gt;11111111 x 11111111 = 123456787654321&lt;br /&gt;111111111 x 111111111=12345678987654321&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823244105610918?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823244105610918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823244105610918' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823244105610918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823244105610918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/beauty-of-maths.html' title='Beauty of Maths!'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823231352640120</id><published>2006-09-14T04:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T04:11:53.526-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Khet mein Boat</title><content type='html'>Ek baar ek sardar sukhe khet mein boat chala raha hota hai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doosara sardar apni Biwi ko leke scooter pe jaa raha tha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pehle Sardar ko boat chalate dekh, woh apni biwi se kehta hai “dekho aise sardaro ne hi to sardar ka naam kharab kar rakha hai, woh to mujhe swimming nahi aati, nahi to mein usey bahut maarta.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823231352640120?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823231352640120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823231352640120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823231352640120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823231352640120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/khet-mein-boat.html' title='Khet mein Boat'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823224534118088</id><published>2006-09-14T04:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T04:10:45.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First day @ school</title><content type='html'>Bobby returns from his first day at school and immediately questions his father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Dad, today we had a Spelling Class - All the other kids could only say half the alphabet, but I knew the whole thing. Is that because I am a Sardar?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No son, that’s because you are intelligent.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bobby seeming content with the answer, asks his father another question, “Dad, today we had Math class - All the other kids could only count from 1-10, I could count from 1 to 20. Is this because I am a Sardar ??”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No , that’s because you are intelligent,” replies his father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy with the answer, Bobby poses another question to his father. “Dad, today we had Medical Examination, all the other boys were shorter than me, I was at least twice their height. Is that because I am a Sardar?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The father replies, “No son, that’s because you are 31 years old.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823224534118088?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823224534118088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823224534118088' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823224534118088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823224534118088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/first-day-school.html' title='First day @ school'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823209249676966</id><published>2006-09-14T04:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T04:08:12.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Smart Sardar in Army</title><content type='html'>Scene: Trench warfare on Pakistan border, Sikh regiment on one side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kartar Singh gets a bright idea, shouts, “Oye Abdul!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A guy gets up from other trench, “Kya hai be”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kartar Singh shoots!! BANG. The guy is shot dead!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kartar Singh shouts again, “Oye Karim”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 guys stand up, “Kya hai ?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BANG BANG both khalaas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kartar Singh shouts again,”Oye Mustafa!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 more, BANG-BANG! dono khalaas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pakistanis get worried, they think: Ye Sardarji log, when did they get so smart? They decide to try the trick themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Abe Gurdev Singh”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;silence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oye Gurdev Singh!!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;silence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“O bhai, Gurdev Singh!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time some one says, “Gurdev Singh ko kaun bula raha hai re?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pakistani gets up, “Main”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BANG! He goes!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823209249676966?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823209249676966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823209249676966' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823209249676966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823209249676966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/smart-sardar-in-army.html' title='Smart Sardar in Army'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823040396876730</id><published>2006-09-14T03:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T03:40:03.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TO BE A MILLIONAIRE</title><content type='html'>A jobless man applied for the position of “office boy” at Microsoft. The  HR manager interviewed him then watched him cleaning the floor as a test. “You are employed.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said.” Give me your e-mail address and I’ll send you the application to fill in, as well as date when you may start.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man replied “But I don’t have a computer, neither an email.”&lt;br /&gt;I’m sorry”, said the HR manager, “If you don’t have an email, that means you do not exist. And who doesn’t exist, cannot have the job.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man left with no hope at all. He didn’t know what to do, with only $10 in his pocket. He then decided to go to the supermarket and buy a 10Kg tomato crate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then sold the tomatoes in a door to door round. In less than two hours, he succeeded to double his capital. He repeated the Operation three times, and returned home with $60. The man realized that he can survive by this&lt;br /&gt;Way, and started to go everyday earlier, and return late Thus, his money doubled or tripled every day. Shortly, he bought a cart, then a truck, then he had his own fleet of delivery vehicles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 years later, the man is one of the biggest food retailers in the US . He started to plan his family’s future, and decided to have a life insurance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He called an insurance broker, and chose a protection plan. When the conversation was concluded, the broker asked him his email. The man replied, “I don’t have an email”. The broker answered curiously, “You don’t have an email, and yet have succeeded to build an empire. Can you imagine what you could have been if you had an email?!!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man thought for a while and replied, “Yes, I’d be an office boy at Microsoft!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M1 - Internet is not the solution to your life.&lt;br /&gt;M2 - If you don’t have internet, and work hard, you can be a millionaire.&lt;br /&gt;M3 - If you received this message by email, you are closer to being an office boy,&lt;br /&gt;than a millionaire……….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a great day!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pls Note: - Do not forward this email to me back, I’m closing all my email addresses &amp; going to sell tomatoes!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smiling after reading is not mandatory!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823040396876730?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823040396876730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823040396876730' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823040396876730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823040396876730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/to-be-millionaire.html' title='TO BE A MILLIONAIRE'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823016554479801</id><published>2006-09-14T03:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T03:36:05.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Appraisal Vs Resignation</title><content type='html'>A newly joined trainee engineer&lt;br /&gt;asks his boss “what is the meaning of&lt;br /&gt;appraisal?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boss: “Do you know the meaning of resignation?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trainee: “Yes I do”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boss: “So let me make you understand what a appraisal is by comparing it with resignation”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comparison study: Appraisal and Resignation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In appraisal meeting they will speak only about your weakness, errors and failures.&lt;br /&gt;In resignation meeting they will speak only about your strengths, past achievements and success.&lt;br /&gt;In appraisal you may need to cry and beg for even 10% hike.&lt;br /&gt;In resignation you can easily demand (or get even without asking) more than 50-60% hike.&lt;br /&gt;During appraisal, they will deny promotion saying you didn’t meet the expectation, you don’t have leadership qualities, and you had several drawbacks in our objective/goal.&lt;br /&gt;During resignation, they will say you are the core member of team; you are the vision of the company how can you go, you have to take the project in shoulder and lead your juniors to success.&lt;br /&gt;There is 90% chance for not getting any significant incentives after appraisal.&lt;br /&gt;There is 90% chance of getting immediate hike after you put the resignation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trainee: “Yes boss enough, now I understood my future. For an appraisal I will have to resign … !!!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823016554479801?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823016554479801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823016554479801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823016554479801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823016554479801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/appraisal-vs-resignation.html' title='Appraisal Vs Resignation'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115823005907298531</id><published>2006-09-14T03:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T03:34:19.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Evolution of a Programmer</title><content type='html'>High School/Jr.High &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 PRINT “HELLO WORLD” &lt;br /&gt;20 END &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First year in College &lt;br /&gt;program Hello(input, output) &lt;br /&gt;begin&lt;br /&gt;writeln(’Hello World’) &lt;br /&gt;end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Senior year in College &lt;br /&gt;(defun hello &lt;br /&gt;(print &lt;br /&gt;(cons ‘Hello (list ‘World))))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New professional &lt;br /&gt;#include &lt;stdio.h&gt;&lt;br /&gt;void main(void) &lt;br /&gt;{ &lt;br /&gt;char *message[] = {”Hello “, “World”};&lt;br /&gt;int i; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for(i = 0; i &lt; 2; ++i) &lt;br /&gt;printf(”%s”, message[i]); &lt;br /&gt;printf(”\n”); &lt;br /&gt;} &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seasoned professional &lt;br /&gt;#include &lt;iostream.h&gt; &lt;br /&gt;#include &lt; string.h&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;class string &lt;br /&gt;{ &lt;br /&gt;private: &lt;br /&gt;int size; &lt;br /&gt;char *ptr; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;public: &lt;br /&gt;string() : size(0), ptr(new char('’)) {} &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;string(const string &amp;s) : size( s.size) &lt;br /&gt;{ &lt;br /&gt;ptr = new char[size + 1]; &lt;br /&gt;strcpy(ptr, s.ptr); &lt;br /&gt;} &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~string() &lt;br /&gt;{ &lt;br /&gt;delete [] ptr; &lt;br /&gt;} &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;friend ostream &amp;operator &lt;&lt;(ostream &amp;, const string &amp;); &lt;br /&gt;string &amp;operator=(const char *); &lt;br /&gt;}; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ostream &amp;operator&lt;&lt;(ostream &amp;stream, const string &amp;s)&lt;br /&gt;{ &lt;br /&gt;return(stream &lt;&lt; s.ptr); &lt;br /&gt;} &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;string &amp;string::operator=(const char *chrs)&lt;br /&gt;{ &lt;br /&gt;if (this != &amp;chrs) &lt;br /&gt;{ &lt;br /&gt;delete [] ptr; &lt;br /&gt;size = strlen(chrs); &lt;br /&gt;ptr = new char[size + 1]; &lt;br /&gt;strcpy(ptr, chrs);&lt;br /&gt;} &lt;br /&gt;return(*this); &lt;br /&gt;} &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;int main() &lt;br /&gt;{ &lt;br /&gt;string str; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;str = “Hello World”; &lt;br /&gt;cout &lt;&lt; str &lt;&lt; endl; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;return(0); &lt;br /&gt;}&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Master Programmer &lt;br /&gt;[ &lt;br /&gt;uuid(2573F8F4-CFEE-101A-9A9F-00AA00342820)&lt;br /&gt;] &lt;br /&gt;library LHello &lt;br /&gt;{ &lt;br /&gt;// bring in the master library &lt;br /&gt;importlib(”actimp.tlb”); &lt;br /&gt;importlib(”actexp.tlb”); &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;// bring in my interfaces &lt;br /&gt;#include ” pshlo.idl” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;br /&gt;uuid(2573F8F5-CFEE-101A-9A9F-00AA00342820)&lt;br /&gt;] &lt;br /&gt;cotype THello &lt;br /&gt;{ &lt;br /&gt;interface IHello; &lt;br /&gt;interface IPersistFile; &lt;br /&gt;}; &lt;br /&gt;}; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ &lt;br /&gt;exe, &lt;br /&gt;uuid(2573F890-CFEE-101A-9A9F-00AA00342820)&lt;br /&gt;] &lt;br /&gt;module CHelloLib &lt;br /&gt;{ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;// some code related header files &lt;br /&gt;importheader(&lt;windows.h&gt;); &lt;br /&gt;importheader(&lt;ole2.h&gt;); &lt;br /&gt;importheader(&lt; except.hxx&gt;); &lt;br /&gt;importheader(” pshlo.h”); &lt;br /&gt;importheader(”shlo.hxx”); &lt;br /&gt;importheader(”mycls.hxx”); &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;// needed typelibs &lt;br /&gt;importlib(” actimp.tlb”); &lt;br /&gt;importlib(”actexp.tlb”); &lt;br /&gt;importlib(”thlo.tlb”);&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ &lt;br /&gt;uuid(2573F891-CFEE-101A-9A9F-00AA00342820), &lt;br /&gt;aggregatable &lt;br /&gt;] &lt;br /&gt;coclass CHello &lt;br /&gt;{ &lt;br /&gt;cotype THello; &lt;br /&gt;}; &lt;br /&gt;}; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#include “ipfix.hxx”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;extern HANDLE hEvent; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;class CHello : public CHelloBase &lt;br /&gt;{ &lt;br /&gt;public: &lt;br /&gt;IPFIX(CLSID_CHello); &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHello(IUnknown *pUnk); &lt;br /&gt;~CHello(); &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HRESULT  __stdcall PrintSz(LPWSTR pwszString);&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;private: &lt;br /&gt;static int cObjRef; &lt;br /&gt;}; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#include &lt;windows.h&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#include &lt;ole2.h&gt; &lt;br /&gt;#include &lt;stdio.h&gt; &lt;br /&gt;#include &lt;stdlib.h&gt; &lt;br /&gt;#include ” thlo.h” &lt;br /&gt;#include “pshlo.h” &lt;br /&gt;#include “shlo.hxx” &lt;br /&gt;#include “mycls.hxx” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;int CHello::cObjRef = 0; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHello::CHello(IUnknown *pUnk) : CHelloBase(pUnk)&lt;br /&gt;{ &lt;br /&gt;cObjRef++; &lt;br /&gt;return; &lt;br /&gt;} &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HRESULT  __stdcall  CHello::PrintSz(LPWSTR pwszString) &lt;br /&gt;{ &lt;br /&gt;printf(”%ws\n”, pwszString);&lt;br /&gt;return(ResultFromScode(S_OK));&lt;br /&gt;} &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHello::~CHello(void) &lt;br /&gt;{ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;// when the object count goes to zero, stop the server &lt;br /&gt;cObjRef–; &lt;br /&gt;if( cObjRef == 0 ) &lt;br /&gt;PulseEvent(hEvent); &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;return; &lt;br /&gt;} &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#include &lt;windows.h&gt; &lt;br /&gt;#include &lt;ole2.h&gt; &lt;br /&gt;#include ” pshlo.h” &lt;br /&gt;#include ” shlo.hxx” &lt;br /&gt;#include “mycls.hxx” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HANDLE hEvent;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;int _cdecl main( &lt;br /&gt;int argc, &lt;br /&gt;char * argv[] &lt;br /&gt;) { &lt;br /&gt;ULONG ulRef; &lt;br /&gt;DWORD dwRegistration;&lt;br /&gt;CHelloCF *pCF = new CHelloCF(); &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hEvent = CreateEvent(NULL, FALSE, FALSE, NULL); &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;// Initialize the OLE libraries &lt;br /&gt;CoInitializeEx(NULL, COINIT_MULTITHREADED);&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CoRegisterClassObject(CLSID_CHello, pCF, CLSCTX_LOCAL_SERVER,&lt;br /&gt;REGCLS_MULTIPLEUSE, &amp;dwRegistration); &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;// wait on an event to stop &lt;br /&gt;WaitForSingleObject(hEvent, INFINITE);&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;// revoke and release the class object &lt;br /&gt;CoRevokeClassObject(dwRegistration); &lt;br /&gt;ulRef = pCF-&gt;Release();&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;// Tell OLE we are going away. &lt;br /&gt;CoUninitialize(); &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;return(0); &lt;br /&gt;} &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;extern CLSID CLSID_CHello; &lt;br /&gt;extern UUID LIBID_CHelloLib; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CLSID CLSID_CHello = { /* 2573F891-CFEE-101A-9A9F-00AA00342820 */&lt;br /&gt;0×2573F891, &lt;br /&gt;0xCFEE, &lt;br /&gt;0×101A, &lt;br /&gt;{ 0×9A, 0×9F, 0×00, 0xAA, 0×00, 0×34, 0×28, 0×20 }&lt;br /&gt;}; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UUID LIBID_CHelloLib = { /* 2573F890-CFEE-101A-9A9F-00AA00342820 */ &lt;br /&gt;0×2573F890, &lt;br /&gt;0xCFEE, &lt;br /&gt;0×101A, &lt;br /&gt;{ 0×9A, 0×9F, 0×00, 0xAA, 0×00, 0×34, 0×28, 0×20 } &lt;br /&gt;};&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#include &lt;windows.h&gt; &lt;br /&gt;#include &lt; ole2.h&gt; &lt;br /&gt;#include &lt;stdlib.h &gt; &lt;br /&gt;#include &lt;string.h&gt; &lt;br /&gt;#include &lt;stdio.h&gt; &lt;br /&gt;#include ” pshlo.h” &lt;br /&gt;#include ” shlo.hxx” &lt;br /&gt;#include “clsid.h”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;int _cdecl main( &lt;br /&gt;int argc, &lt;br /&gt;char * argv[] &lt;br /&gt;) { &lt;br /&gt;HRESULT  hRslt; &lt;br /&gt;IHello        *pHello; &lt;br /&gt;ULONG  ulCnt; &lt;br /&gt;IMoniker * pmk; &lt;br /&gt;WCHAR  wcsT[_MAX_PATH]; &lt;br /&gt;WCHAR  wcsPath[2 * _MAX_PATH];&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;// get object path &lt;br /&gt;wcsPath[0] = ‘’;&lt;br /&gt;wcsT[0] = ‘’; &lt;br /&gt;if( argc &gt; 1) { &lt;br /&gt;mbstowcs(wcsPath, argv[1], strlen(argv[1]) + 1);&lt;br /&gt;wcsupr(wcsPath); &lt;br /&gt;} &lt;br /&gt;else { &lt;br /&gt;fprintf(stderr, “Object path must be specified\n”);&lt;br /&gt;return(1); &lt;br /&gt;} &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;// get print string &lt;br /&gt;if(argc &gt; 2) &lt;br /&gt;mbstowcs(wcsT, argv[2], strlen(argv[2]) + 1); &lt;br /&gt;else &lt;br /&gt;wcscpy(wcsT, L”Hello World”); &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;printf(”Linking to object %ws\n”, wcsPath);&lt;br /&gt;printf(”Text String %ws\n”, wcsT); &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;// Initialize the OLE libraries &lt;br /&gt;hRslt = CoInitializeEx(NULL, COINIT_MULTITHREADED);&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if(SUCCEEDED(hRslt)) { &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hRslt = CreateFileMoniker(wcsPath, &amp;pmk); &lt;br /&gt;if(SUCCEEDED(hRslt)) &lt;br /&gt;hRslt = BindMoniker(pmk, 0, IID_IHello, (void **)&amp;pHello);&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if(SUCCEEDED(hRslt)) { &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;// print a string out &lt;br /&gt;pHello-&gt;PrintSz(wcsT); &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sleep(2000);&lt;br /&gt;ulCnt = pHello-&gt;Release(); &lt;br /&gt;} &lt;br /&gt;else &lt;br /&gt;printf(”Failure to connect, status: %lx”, hRslt);&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;// Tell OLE we are going away. &lt;br /&gt;CoUninitialize(); &lt;br /&gt;} &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;return(0); &lt;br /&gt;}   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Program Manager &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Team Worker,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please write a program to print “Hello World” before the EOD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dont send it to Onsite , i will send it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With regards,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PM.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115823005907298531?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115823005907298531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115823005907298531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823005907298531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115823005907298531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/evolution-of-programmer.html' title='The Evolution of a Programmer'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115822991931497265</id><published>2006-09-14T03:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T03:31:59.316-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Desi Summer of 69′</title><content type='html'>I had my first real six rupees,&lt;br /&gt;stole it from my father's pants.&lt;br /&gt;went to a madrasi hotel,&lt;br /&gt;to eat the sambhar of 69.&lt;br /&gt;Me and some kadke dost,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;had it all and we caught bukhaar,&lt;br /&gt;jimy puked, joey got ulcers,&lt;br /&gt;and Bagga ne maari dakar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh when I went back there now,&lt;br /&gt;the food was as stale as ever,&lt;br /&gt;and though it was 1999,&lt;br /&gt;still the sambhar was being served over there,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that was the worst food of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therez no use in complaining,&lt;br /&gt;when you got no other place to eat,&lt;br /&gt;rushed in the evening to the doctors clinic, but he too was at the toilet&lt;br /&gt;seat, yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;standing there waiting outside,&lt;br /&gt;nurse told me I will wait forever,&lt;br /&gt;oh and when I held my breath,&lt;br /&gt;I knew that I had to use that loo there&lt;br /&gt;That was the worst food of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the sambhar of 69.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man I was getting killed,&lt;br /&gt;I was full and restless,&lt;br /&gt;I needed to unwind,&lt;br /&gt;I guess nothing can wait forever&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115822991931497265?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115822991931497265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115822991931497265' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115822991931497265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115822991931497265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/desi-summer-of-69.html' title='Desi Summer of 69′'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115822983955559206</id><published>2006-09-14T03:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T03:30:39.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PAKISTANI QUESTION PAPER- must attempt!!!!!</title><content type='html'>PAKISTANI MATHS QUESTION PAPER&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Instructions:&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;—————–&lt;br /&gt;i) Students found copying will be shot on the spot.&lt;br /&gt;ii)Any student coming late after 10 minutes after the exam starts will be forced to join Al Qayda group.&lt;br /&gt;iii)AK-47's and Grenades are not allowed in the exam hall. Students may keep their daggers, Revolvers and pack of anthrax bombs only for self defense.&lt;br /&gt;———————————————————————-&lt;br /&gt;Math Exam Time 3 hours Full Marks 100&lt;br /&gt;All questions are compulsory.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;1. Abdul was sent to jail for murder .He has 7 wives in his house.&lt;br /&gt;Abdul distributed money to his wives in such a proportion that the youngest and most recent wife receives maximum and oldest wife gets minimum, and each wife gets double of her former competitor. Abdul has 1700 Rupaye left in his house. Abdul's oldest wife needs atleast 25 rupaye per month. Find out the time when Abdul will have to break Jail to come out and earn money so that his wives do not starve.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;2. Karim is a Drug seller. Prices per gram of Marijuana, hasis, haroine and LHD s are 50, 60,70,80 Rupaye respectively. Karim offers a discount of Rupaye 20 for his buyers who buys more than 50 grams of drug. If Rahim , a buyer gets Rupaye 37 discount , find out the grams of LHD he bought.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;3. Imran tampers the ball thrice per over. He deforms the ball .02% of its original shape each time . Find the percentage deformation the ball due to tampering in a one day series against India in which Imran bowled 9.3 overs.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;4. Rauf has a Company named Al Allah Kidnapping &amp; Murder Private Limited. He has to threat 10 people per day over Telephone. 40% of the people he threats are cinema stars in Mumbai, 30% are Businessman in Delhi, 20% are Cricket Players in Madras and 10% are shopkeepres in Calcutta . If ISD charges are rupaye 15, 25, 40, 50 per minute from Rauf's city Islamabad to Bombay, Delhi,Calcutta and Madras respectively and he gets a Telephone bill of 10,230 Rupaya in a month Find out The No of Cinema stars in Mumbai ,threatened in that particular month.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;5. A terrorist group has to provide one Ak 47.one AK 49,one Rocket Launcher, 50 Grenades and one pack of RDX to its Ron roots for training.One AK 47 costs 100$; One Ak 49 costs 150 $,A Bazuka rocket Launcher costs 250 $ , grenade is 3 $ each, a pack of Rdx Bomb attached with remote Control is 500 $.&lt;br /&gt;The terrorist group admits 2000 new people every year out of which 30 % are court-martialed. Find the amt of Foreign Money Pakistan Govt has to provide each year to run such a group.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;6. If stabilty of democratic Govt. in pakistan is given by the following equation X exp3 +X exp2 -16 = i, where the notations have their usual meaning; Find out x.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;7. Probaliblity of a Pakistani prime minister to be shot is 78 %.&lt;br /&gt;Probabilty of a Military general to be shot is 80% .&lt;br /&gt;Find the joint probability of a Prime minister to be shot who is also a Military general.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;8) Find out geometrically the area of Paktunistaan using PI Theorem with Osama BIn Ladens Correction (That is taking the value of PI = 786 instead of 3.14….), if Paktunistaan is taken as a heptagon.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;9) A 'GHAURI' missile tries to fly from Drass to Kargil which is not too far from Drass (say 100 miles) and is exactly to the East of Drass . The wind is blowing from the South and the speed of the wind is exactly equal to the speed of the airplane. (The speed of the airplane is measured with respect to the air!) The pilot decides to steer straight to Kargil all the time during the flight.&lt;br /&gt;Will the airplane ever reach Kargil ? What if the speed of the wind is k times the speed of the airplane, where k is a positive number (can be greater or less than 1)? Try to sketch the trajectory of the airplane (with respect to the ground, of course) in each of the three cases:&lt;br /&gt;k=1, k1 and k&lt;1.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;10) Briefly discuss the Unsolved problem of "Bisection of a Triangle" with a Compass and an unmarked ruler if the triangle is named as KASHMIR.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115822983955559206?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115822983955559206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115822983955559206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115822983955559206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115822983955559206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/pakistani-question-paper-must-attempt.html' title='PAKISTANI QUESTION PAPER- must attempt!!!!!'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115822976183884966</id><published>2006-09-14T03:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T03:29:21.840-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sniffer dog inside plane</title><content type='html'>A man had just settled into his seat next to the window on the plane when another man sat down in the aisle seat and put his black Labrador retriever between them. The first man asked why the dog was allowed on the plane. The second man explained that he was a DEA agent and that the dog was a sniffing dog. “His name is Sniffer, and he’s the best there is,” he said. “I’ll show you once we get airborne when I put him to work.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The plane took off, and once it had leveled out, the agent said, “Watch this.” He told Sniffer to “search.” Sniffer jumped down, walked along the aisle, and finally sat very purposefully next to a woman for several seconds. Sniffer then returned to his seat and put one paw on the agent’s arm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The agent said, “Good boy.” He turned to the other man and said, “That woman is in possession of marijuana, so I’m making a note of her seat number. The authorities will apprehend her when we land.” “Say, that’s pretty neat,” replied the first man. Once again, the agent sent Sniffer to search the aisles. The Lab sniffed about, sat down beside a man for a few seconds, returned to his seat and placed two paws on the agent’s arm. The agent said, “That man is carrying cocaine, so again, I’m making a note of his seat number for the police.” The agent then told Sniffer to search again. Sniffer walked up and down the aisles for a little while, sat down for a moment, and then came racing back to the agent. He jumped into the middle seat and proceeded to poop all over the place. The first man was really disgusted by this behavior and couldn’t figure out why a well-trained dog would act like that, so he asked the agent, “What’s going on?” The agent nervously replied, “He just found a bomb!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115822976183884966?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115822976183884966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115822976183884966' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115822976183884966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115822976183884966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/sniffer-dog-inside-plane.html' title='Sniffer dog inside plane'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115822949112151999</id><published>2006-09-14T03:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T03:24:51.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hum hai hindustani</title><content type='html'>Bengali&lt;br /&gt;One Bengali = poet.&lt;br /&gt;Two Bengalis = a film society.&lt;br /&gt;Three Bengalis = political party.&lt;br /&gt;Four Bengalis = two political parties.&lt;br /&gt;More than four Bengali’s = Countrywide agitation to bring Ganguli into Indian Cricket Team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bihari&lt;br /&gt;One Bihari = Laloo Prasad Yadav.&lt;br /&gt;Two Biharis = booth-capturing squad.&lt;br /&gt;Three Biharis = caste killing.&lt;br /&gt;Four Biharis = entire literate population of Patna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Punjabi&lt;br /&gt;One Punjabi =100 kg hulk named Pinky.&lt;br /&gt;Two Punjabis = Pinky with his bigger brother Twinky.&lt;br /&gt;Three Punjabis = assault on the McAloo Tikkis at the local McDonalds.&lt;br /&gt;Four Punjabis = combined IQ equal to one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mallu&lt;br /&gt;One Mallu = coconut stall.&lt;br /&gt;Two Mallus = a boat race.&lt;br /&gt;Three Mallus = Gulf job racket.&lt;br /&gt;Four Mallus = oil slick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UP Bhaiyya&lt;br /&gt;One UP bhaiyya = a milkman.&lt;br /&gt;Two UP bhaiyyas = halwai shop.&lt;br /&gt;Three UP bhaiyyas = a fist-fight in the UP assembly.&lt;br /&gt;Four UP bhaiyyas = mosque-destruction squad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gujju&lt;br /&gt;One Gujju = share-broker in a Bombay train.&lt;br /&gt;Two Gujjus = rummy game in a Bombay train.&lt;br /&gt;Three Gujjus = Bombay’s noisiest restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;Four Gujjus = stock market scam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andhraite&lt;br /&gt;One Andhraite = chili farmer.&lt;br /&gt;Two Andhraites = software company in New Jersey.&lt;br /&gt;Three Andhraites = Naxalite outfit.&lt;br /&gt;Four Andhraites = song-and-dance number in a Telugu movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kashmiri&lt;br /&gt;One Kashmiri = carpet salesman.&lt;br /&gt;Two Kashmiris = carpet factory.&lt;br /&gt;Three Kashmiris = terrorist outfit.&lt;br /&gt;Four Kashmiris = shoot-at-sight order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tamil-Brahmin&lt;br /&gt;One Tam-Brahm = priest at the Vardarajaperumal temple.&lt;br /&gt;Two Tam-Brahms = maths tuition class.&lt;br /&gt;Three Tam-Brahms = queue outside the U.S consulate at 4 a.m.&lt;br /&gt;Four Tam-Brahms = Thyagaraja music festival in Santa Clara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bombayite&lt;br /&gt;One Bombayite = footpath vada-pav stall.&lt;br /&gt;Two Bombayites = film studio.&lt;br /&gt;Three Bombayites = slum.&lt;br /&gt;Four Bombayites = the number of people standing on your foot in the train at rush hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sindhi&lt;br /&gt;One Sindhi = currency racket.&lt;br /&gt;Two Sindhis = papad factory.&lt;br /&gt;Three Sindhis = duplicate goods shop in Ulhasnagar .&lt;br /&gt;Four Sindhis = Hong Kong Retail Traders Association.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marwari&lt;br /&gt;One Marwari = the neighbourhood foodstuffs adulterator.&lt;br /&gt;Two Marwaris = 50% of Calcutta.&lt;br /&gt;Three Marwaris = finish off all Gujaratis &amp; Sindhis.&lt;br /&gt;Four Marwaris = threaten the Jews as a community.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115822949112151999?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115822949112151999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115822949112151999' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115822949112151999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115822949112151999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/hum-hai-hindustani.html' title='Hum hai hindustani'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115822939834188685</id><published>2006-09-14T03:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T03:23:18.353-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How to catch a lion</title><content type='html'>Newton’s Method:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let, the lion catch you.&lt;br /&gt;For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.&lt;br /&gt;Implies you caught lion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Einstein Method:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Run in the direction opposite to that of the lion.&lt;br /&gt;Due to higher relative velocity, the lion will also run faster and will get tired soon.&lt;br /&gt;Now you can trap it easily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Software Engineer Method:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Catch a cat and claim that your testing has proven that its a Lion.&lt;br /&gt;If anyone comes back with issues tell that you will upgrade it to Lion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indian Police Method:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Catch any animal and interrogate it &amp; torture it to accept that its a lion .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rajnikanth Method :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep warning the lion that u may come and attack anytime.&lt;br /&gt;The lion will live in fear and die soon in fear itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jayalalitha Method:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Send Police commissioner Muthukaruppan around 2AM and kill it, while it’s sleeping !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mani Rathnam Method (director):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make sure the lion does not get sun light and put the lion in a dark room with a single candle lighted.&lt;br /&gt;Keep murmuring something in its ears.&lt;br /&gt;The lion will be highly irritated and commit suicide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karan Johar Method (director):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Send a lioness into the forest.&lt;br /&gt;Our lion and lioness fall in love with each other.&lt;br /&gt;Send another lioness in to the forest, followed by another lion.&lt;br /&gt;First lion loves the first lioness and the second lion loves the 2nd lioness.&lt;br /&gt;But 2nd lioness loves both lions.&lt;br /&gt;Now send another lioness (third) into the forest.&lt;br /&gt;You don’t understand right… ok….read it after 15 yrs, then also u wont!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yash Chopra method (director):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take the lion to Australia or US.. and kill it in a good scenic location.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Govinda method:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Continuously dance before the lion for 5 or 6 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Menaka Gandhi method:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Save the lion from a danger and feed him with some vegetables continuously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George Bush method:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Link the lion with Osama bin laden and shoot him!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ravi Shastri method:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ask the lion to bowl at u.&lt;br /&gt;U bat for 200 balls and score 1 run&lt;br /&gt;Lion tired and surrenders.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115822939834188685?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115822939834188685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115822939834188685' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115822939834188685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115822939834188685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/how-to-catch-lion.html' title='How to catch a lion'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115735507966661746</id><published>2006-09-04T00:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-04T00:33:18.863-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One month overdue</title><content type='html'>Mr.Sharma comes home one night, and his wife throws her arms around his neck: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I have great news, I 'm a month overdue. I think we are going to have a baby!&lt;br /&gt;The doctor gave me a test today, but until we find out for sure, we can't tell anybody." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, Mrs. Sharma receives a telephone call from BSES (Bombay Suburban Electricity Supply) because the electricity bill has not been paid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I speaking to Mrs. Sharma ? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes...... speaking &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BSES guy, "You! re a month overdue, you know!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do YOU know? stammers the young woman. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, maam, its in our files! says the BSES guy . &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are you saying? Its in your files ..... HOW? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, We have a system of finding out whos overdue &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GOD !!!!!!......... this is too much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Madam, I am sorry...... I am following order, I have to inform you are overdue I know that let me talk to my husband about this tonight, he will speak to your company tomorrow &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night, she tells her! husband about the visit, and he mad as a bull, rushes to BSES office the next day morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whats going on? You have it on file that my wife is a month overdue? What business is that of yours? the husband shouts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just calm down, says the lady at the reception at BSES, its nothing serious. All you have to do is pay us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PAY you? and if I refuse? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, in that case, sir, we have no option but to cut yours off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what would my wife do then? the husband asks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know. I guess, she would have to use a candle&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115735507966661746?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115735507966661746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115735507966661746' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115735507966661746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115735507966661746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/one-month-overdue.html' title='One month overdue'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115734880146696844</id><published>2006-09-03T22:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-03T22:46:41.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jokes :-)</title><content type='html'>Two boys were arguing when the teacher entered the room. The teacher says, "Why are you arguing?" &lt;br /&gt;One boy answers, "We found a ten dollor bill and decided to give it to whoever tells the biggest lie." &lt;br /&gt;"You should be ashamed of yourselves," said the teacher, "When I was your age I didn't even know what a lie was." &lt;br /&gt;The boys gave the ten dollars to the teacher. &lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Teacher: Why are you late? &lt;br /&gt;Student: There was a man who lost a hundred dollar bill. &lt;br /&gt;Teacher: That's nice. Were you helping him look for it? &lt;br /&gt;Student: No. I was standing on it. &lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Once there were three turtles. One day they decided to go on a picnic. When they got there, they realized they had forgotten the soda. The youngest turtle said he would go home and get it if they wouldn't eat the sandwiches until he got back. A week went by, then a month, finally a year, when the two turtles said,"oh, come on, let's eat the sandwiches." Suddenly the little turtle popped up from behind a rock and said, "If you do, I won't go!" &lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;A motorist was driving down the highway and all of a sudden he hit a parrot.&lt;br /&gt;He pulled over, picked the poor parrot, who was still alive, but Unconscious.&lt;br /&gt;He decided to take him home.&lt;br /&gt;When the motorist got home, he put the parrot in a cage, leaving him some bread and water inside.&lt;br /&gt;When the parrot regained consciousness, he looked around and said: "BARS, bread, water! Oh my God!! I have killed the motorist!!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Johnson decided to have her own portrait painted by a well-known artist.&lt;br /&gt;She told the artist, "Paint me with three-carat diamond earrings, a large diamond necklace, glimmering emerald bracelets, and a beautiful, red ruby pendant."&lt;br /&gt;"But ma'am, you are not wearing any of those things."&lt;br /&gt;"I know," said Mrs. Johnson. "My health is not good and my husband is having an affair with his secretary. When I die I'm sure he will marry her, and I want the bitch to go nuts looking for the jewelry."&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Three accountants were standing at the urinals. &lt;br /&gt;The first accountant finished and walked over to the sink to wash his hands. He then proceeded to dry his hands very carefully. He used paper towel and ensured that every single spot of water on his hands was dried. Turning to the other two bankers, he said, "At Price Waterhouse Coopers", we are trained to be extremely thorough." &lt;br /&gt;The second accountant finished his task at the urinal and he proceeded to wash his hands. He used a single paper towel and made sure that he dried his hands using every available portion of the paper towel. He turned and said, at "E&amp;Y", not only are we trained to be extremely thorough, but we are also trained to be extremely efficient." &lt;br /&gt;The third accountant finished and walked straight for the door, shouting over his shoulder, "At Shah &amp; Patel, we don't pee on our hands."&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;A little old lady goes to the doctor and says,&lt;br /&gt;"Doctor I have this problem with gas, but it really doesn't bother me too much. They never smell and are always silent.&lt;br /&gt;As a matter of fact I've farted at least 20 times since I've been here in your office.&lt;br /&gt;You didn't know I was farting because they didn't smell and are silent".&lt;br /&gt;The doctor says "I see. Take these pills and come back to see me next week."&lt;br /&gt;The next week the lady goes back,&lt;br /&gt;"Doctor," she says, "I don't know what the hell you gave me, but now my farts, although still silent, they stink terribly."&lt;br /&gt;"Good", the doctor said. "Now that we've cleared up your sinuses, let's work on your hearing."&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;A kindergarten class had a homework assignment to find out about something exciting and relate it to the class the next day. When the time came to present what they'd found, the first little boy walked up to the front of the class made a small white dot on the blackboard and sat back down. Puzzled, the teacher asked him just what it was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's a period,'' said the little boy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I can see that,'' she said, ''but what is so exciting about a period?'' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;''Damned if I know,'' said the little boy, ''but this morning my sister was missing one, Daddy had a heart attack, Mommy fainted, and the man next door shot himself."&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;Last in Line&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bus carrying only ugly people crashes into an oncoming truck, and everyone inside dies. As they stand at the Pearly Gates waiting to enter Paradise and meet their maker, God decides to grant each person one wish because of the grief they have experienced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They're all lined up, and God asks the first one what the wish is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I want to be gorgeous," and so God snaps His fingers, and it is done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second one in line hears this and says "I want to be gorgeous too." Another snap of His fingers and the wish is granted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This goes on for a while with each one asking to be gorgeous, but when God is halfway down the line, the last guy in the line starts laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When there are only ten people left, this guy is rolling on the floor,laughing his head off. Finally, God reaches this last guy and asks himwhat his wish will be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy eventually calms down and says: "Make 'em all ugly again"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115734880146696844?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115734880146696844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115734880146696844' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115734880146696844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115734880146696844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/09/jokes.html' title='Jokes :-)'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115554119270064207</id><published>2006-08-14T00:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T00:39:52.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How the Jews got The Ten Commandments</title><content type='html'>God went to the Arabs and said,   " I have Commandments for you, that will make your lives better " &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Arabs asked,   " What are Commandments   ?   Can you give us an example   ? "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God said,   " For example ........... Thou shall not kill " &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Arabs were shocked,   " What   ?   Not kill   ?   No way   !   Killing and massacaring innocent people is our birth-right and the only reason for our existence.  No.  We are not interested "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So God went to the Africans and said,   " I have Commandments "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Africans wanted an example.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God said,   " For example ........... Honor thy Father and Mother " &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Africans were dismayed.  They said,   " Father   ?   Yo maan   !   Can't tell for sure, who our fathers are, maan   ! "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So God went to the Mexicans and said,   " I have Commandments " &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Mexicans wanted an example.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God said,   " For example ........... Thou shall not steal "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Mexicans were flabbergasted.  They said,   " No steal   ?   No steal   ???   Hey Senor, we no steal then how we live, huh   ?   Gracias, but no   ! "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So God went to the French and said,   " I have Commandments " &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The French wanted an example.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God said,   " For example ........... Thou shall not commit adultery "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The French were stunned.  They said,   " What  ?    Not commit  ze  adultery ....... ?   Non, Non, Non.   Non Monsieur.   Pardonnez nous.   We  ze  French, must have ze romance "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So God went to the Jews and said,   " I have Commandments "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They asked,   " Commandments   ?    How much do they cost   ? "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God replied,   " They are free "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Jews answered,   " Good.  We shall take Ten  !!! "&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115554119270064207?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115554119270064207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115554119270064207' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115554119270064207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115554119270064207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/08/how-jews-got-ten-commandments.html' title='How the Jews got The Ten Commandments'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115494155087236327</id><published>2006-08-07T02:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T02:05:50.873-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WORDS WOMEN USE</title><content type='html'>FINE&lt;br /&gt;This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FIVE MINUTES&lt;br /&gt;If she is getting dressed, this is half an hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given 5 more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOTHING&lt;br /&gt;This is the calm before the storm. This means "something," and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with 'Nothing' usually end in "Fine"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GO AHEAD&lt;br /&gt;This is a dare, not permission. Don't do it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOUD SIGH&lt;br /&gt;This is not actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A "Loud Sigh" means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you over "Nothing" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THAT'S OKAY&lt;br /&gt;This is one of the most dangerous statements that a woman can make to a man. "That's Okay" means that she wants to think long and ! hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THANKS&lt;br /&gt;A woman is thanking you. Do not question it or faint. Just say you're welcome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115494155087236327?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115494155087236327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115494155087236327' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115494155087236327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115494155087236327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/08/words-women-use.html' title='WORDS WOMEN USE'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115494131963870460</id><published>2006-08-07T02:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T02:01:59.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This will make you fall off your chair for sure - Feedbacks welcome!!</title><content type='html'>A man boards a Jet Airways airplane from Delhi to Mumbai and takes his seat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he settles in, he glances up and sees a very beautiful woman boarding the plane. He soon realizes she's heading straight towards his seat. Lo and behold, she takes the seat right beside his.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eager to strike up a conversation, he asks "Business trip or vacation?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She turns, smiles, and says, "Business. I'm going to the annual Sexologists Convention."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He swallows hard. Here is the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen, sitting next to him, and she's a sexologist!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Struggling to contain his excitement and maintain his composure, he calmly asks, "What's your business role at this convention?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lecturer," she says, "I use my experience to debunk some of the popular myths about sexuality."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Really?" he says, swallowing hard. "What m-m-m-myths are those?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well," she explains, "one popular myth is that Negro men are the best endowed when, in fact, it's the Tamilian who is most likely to possess that trait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another popular myth is that French men are the best lovers, when actually it is the Bengali.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, we have found that the best potential lover in all categories is the Sardarji."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, the woman becomes a little uncomfortable and blushes. "I'm sorry," she says, "I shouldn't be discussing this with you. I don't even know your name!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Venkatraman!" the man blurts. " Venkatraman Mukherjee! But my friends call me Santa Singh!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115494131963870460?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115494131963870460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115494131963870460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115494131963870460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115494131963870460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/08/this-will-make-you-fall-off-your-chair.html' title='This will make you fall off your chair for sure - Feedbacks welcome!!'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115468056981823734</id><published>2006-08-04T01:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-04T01:36:09.820-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TRUE MANAGEMENT JOKE- Manager &amp; Canteen Boy</title><content type='html'>A Senior Manager working in an MNC, as usual after lunch goes to the cafeteria for coffee. He relaxes in canteen. He sees a canteen boy cleaning tables there. To Kill time he decides to have fun with him. He calls him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Senior Manager - (Asks canteen boy) : How much do you earn? Canteen boy smiles... Senior Manager - what are your future plans? Canteen boy keeps quiet... Senior Manager - where do you see yourself 10 years down the line?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Canteen boy gives a cold stare.&lt;br /&gt;Senior Manager - Jab mai Bangalore aaya tha tab mere paas bhi kuch nahi tha.... Aaj mere paas kya nahin hai... naam hai.........., shohrat hai........., paisa hai............ Izzat Hai .............,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tumhare paas kya hai?&lt;br /&gt;Scroll down to find out his answer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't think that he answered like Shashi Kapoor of Deewar ki "Mere paas Maa hain" or those stupid Pj - "Mere Paas Raaj Maa Hai Types" Just Scroll some more..............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Canteen boy - Sa'ab mere paas bahut KAAM hai....&lt;br /&gt;Senior Manager leaves the cafeteria silently.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115468056981823734?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115468056981823734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115468056981823734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115468056981823734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115468056981823734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/08/true-management-joke-manager-canteen.html' title='TRUE MANAGEMENT JOKE- Manager &amp; Canteen Boy'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115468038629886416</id><published>2006-08-04T01:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-04T01:33:06.303-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Think before you speak</title><content type='html'>Here are six reasons why you should think before you speak - the last one is great! Have you ever spoken and wished that you could immediately take the words   back...or that you could crawl into a hole? Here are the Testimonials of a few   people who did....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FIRST TESTIMONY:&lt;br /&gt;I walked into a hair salon with my husband and three kids in tow and asked loudly, "How much do you charge for a shampoo and a blow job?" I turned around and walked back out and never went back. My husband didn't say a word...he knew better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SECOND TESTIMONY:&lt;br /&gt;I was at the golf store comparing different kinds of golf balls. I was unhappy with the women's type I had been using. After browsing for several minutes,I was approached by one of the good-looking gentlemen who works at the store. He asked  if he could help me. Without thinking, I looked at him and said, "I think I like playing with men's balls."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THIRD TESTIMONY:&lt;br /&gt;My sister and I were at the mall and passed by a store that sold a variety of candy and nuts. As we were looking at the display case, the boy behind the  counter asked if we needed any help. I replied, "No, I'm just looking at your  nuts." My sister started to laugh hysterically. The boy grinned, and I turned   beet-red and walked away. To this day, my sister has never let me forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FOURTH TESTIMONY:&lt;br /&gt;While in line at the bank one afternoon, my toddler decided to release some pent-up energy and ran amok. I was finally able to grab hold of her after receiving looks of disgust and annoyance from other patrons. I told her that if  she did not start behaving "right now" she would be punished. To my horror, she  looked me in the eye and said in a voice just as threatening, "If you don't let  me go right now, I will tell Grandma that I saw you kissing Daddy's pee-pee last night!" The silence was deafening&lt;br /&gt;after this enlightening exchange. Even the  tellers stopped what they were doing. I mustered up the last of my dignity and  walked out of the bank with my daughter in tow. The last thing I heard when the door closed behind me, were screams of laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FIFTH TESTIMONY:&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever asked your child a question too many times? My three-year-old son had a lot of problems with potty training and I was on him constantly. One day  we stopped at Taco Bell for a quick lunch in between errands. It was very busy,  with a full dining room. While enjoying my taco, I smelled something funny, so  of course I checked my seven-month-old daughter, she was clean. Then realized that Danny had not asked to go potty in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked him if he needed to go, and he said "No". I kept thinking "Oh Lord, that  child has had an accident, and I don't have any clothes with me." Then I said,  "Danny, are you SURE you didn't have an accident?" "No," he replied. I just KNEW  that he must have had an accident, because the smell was getting worse. Soooooo, I asked one more time, "Danny, did you have an accident?" This time he jumped up, yanked down his pants, bent over, spread his  cheeks and yelled "SEE MOM, IT'S JUST FARTS!!" While 30 people nearly choked to death on their tacos laughing, he calmly pulled up his pants and sat down. An   old couple made me feel better, thanking me for the best laugh they'd ever had! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LAST BUT NOT LEAST TESTIMONY:&lt;br /&gt;This had most of the state of Michigan laughing for 2 days and a very embarrassed female news anchor who will, in the future, likely think before she speaks. What happens when you predict snow but don't get any! We had a female news anchor that, the day after it was supposed to have snowed and didn't, turned to  the weatherman and asked: "So Bob, where's that 8 inches you promised me last  night?" Not only did HE have to leave the set, but half the crew did too they were laughing so hard!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, didn't that feel good? Pass it on to someone you know who needs a laugh and remember we all say things we don't really mean, so think before you speak.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115468038629886416?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115468038629886416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115468038629886416' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115468038629886416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115468038629886416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/08/think-before-you-speak.html' title='Think before you speak'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115468030775074183</id><published>2006-08-04T01:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-04T01:31:47.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unusual Job Applicant Behavior</title><content type='html'>H.R. executives of major corporations were asked for stories of unusual behavior by job applicants. The responses were: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"... stretched out on the floor to fill out the job application." "She wore a Walkman and said she could listen to me and the music at the same time." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A balding candidate abruptly excused himself. Returned to the office a few minutes later, wearing a hairpiece." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"... asked to see interviewer's resume to see if the executive was qualified to judge the candidate." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"... announced she hadn't had lunch and proceeded to eat a hamburger and French fries in the interviewer's office - wiping the ketchup on her sleeve" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Stated that, if he were hired, he would demonstrate his loyalty by having the corporate logo tattooed on his forearm." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Interrupted to phone his therapist for advice on answering specific interview questions." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When I asked him about his hobbies, he stood up and started tap dancing around my office." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"At the end of the interview, while I stood there dumb-struck, went through my purse, took out a brush, brushed his hair, and left." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"... pulled out a Polaroid camera and snapped a flash picture of me. Said he collected photos of everyone who interviewed him." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Said he wasn't interested because the position paid too much." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"During the interview, an alarm clock went off from the candidate's brief case. He took it out, shut it off, apologized, and said he had to leave for another interview." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A telephone call came in for the job applicant. It was from his wife. His side of the conversation went like this: 'Which company? When do I start? What's the salary?' I said, 'I assume you're not interested in conducting the interview any further.' He promptly responded, 'I am, as long as you'll pay me more.' I didn't hire him, but later found out there was no other job offer. It was a scam to get a higher offer." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Candidate said he really didn't want to get a job, but the unemployment office needed proof that he was looking for one." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pointing to a black case he carried into my office, he said that if he was not hired, the bomb would go off. Disbelieving, I began to state why he would never be hired and that I was going to call the police. He then reached down to the case, flipped a switch and ran. No one was injured, but I did need to get a new desk."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115468030775074183?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115468030775074183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115468030775074183' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115468030775074183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115468030775074183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/08/unusual-job-applicant-behavior.html' title='Unusual Job Applicant Behavior'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115432608144273215</id><published>2006-07-30T23:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-30T23:08:01.453-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Peanuts</title><content type='html'>A tour bus driver is driving with a bus load of seniors down a highway. When he is tapped on his shoulder by a little old lady. She offers him a handful of peanuts, which he gratefully munches up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After about 15 minutes, she taps him on his shoulder again and she hands him another handful of peanuts.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She repeats this gesture about five more times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she is about to hand him another batch again he asks the little old lady, why dont you eat the peanuts yourself?". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We can't chew them because we've no teeth", she replied. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The puzzled driver asks, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why do you buy them then?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old lady replied,  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We just love the chocolate around them."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115432608144273215?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115432608144273215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115432608144273215' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115432608144273215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115432608144273215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/07/peanuts.html' title='Peanuts'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115401776866148531</id><published>2006-07-27T09:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-27T09:29:28.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Alcohol Effects &amp; Remedies</title><content type='html'>1. Symptom: Cold and humid feet.&lt;br /&gt;    Cause: Glass is being held at incorrect angle (You are pouring the drink on your feet). &lt;br /&gt;    Cure: Maneuver glass until open end is facing upward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Symptom: The wall facing you is full of lights. &lt;br /&gt;    Cause: You're lying on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;    Cure: Position your body at a 90-degree angle to the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Symptom: The floor looks blurry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Cause: You're looking through an empty glass.&lt;br /&gt;    Cure: Quickly refill with your favorite beverage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Symptom: The floor is moving.&lt;br /&gt;    Cause: You're being dragged away.&lt;br /&gt;    Cure: At least ask where they're taking you. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Symptom: You hear echoes every time someone speaks.&lt;br /&gt;    Cause: You have your glass on your ear.&lt;br /&gt;    Cure: Stop making a fool of yourself!&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;6. Symptom: The room is shaking a lot, everyone is dressed in white and the music is very repetitive. &lt;br /&gt;    Cause: You're in an ambulance.&lt;br /&gt;    Cure: Don't move. Let the professionals do their job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Symptom: Your dad and all your brothers look strange. &lt;br /&gt;    Cause: You're in the wrong house.&lt;br /&gt;    Cure: Ask if they can point you to your house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115401776866148531?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115401776866148531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115401776866148531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115401776866148531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115401776866148531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/07/alcohol-effects-remedies.html' title='Alcohol Effects &amp; Remedies'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115381802855451909</id><published>2006-07-25T01:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T02:00:28.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is a true story from the Word Perfect Helpline, which was transcribed from a recording monitoring the customer care department. Needless to say the Help Desk employee was fired; however, he/she is currently suing the Word Perfect organization for "Termination without Cause".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actual dialogue of a former WordPerfect Customer Support employee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know why they record these conversations!):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Ridge Hall, computer assistance; may I help you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "Yes, well, I'm having trouble with WordPerfect."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "What sort of trouble??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "Well, I was just typing along, and all of a sudden the words went away."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Went away?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "They disappeared."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Hmm So what does your screen lo ok like now?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "Nothing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Nothing??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "It's blank; it won't accept anything when I type."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Are you still in WordPerfect, or did you get out??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "How do I tell?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Can you see the C: prompt on the screen??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "What's a sea-prompt?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Never mind, can you move your cursor around the screen?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "There isn't any cursor: I told you, it won't accept anything I type."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Does your monitor have a power indicator??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "What's a monitor?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "It's the thing with the screen on it that looks like a TV. Does it have a little light that tells you when it's on??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "I don't know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Well, then look on the back of the monitor and find where the power cord goes into it. Can you see that??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "Yes, I think so."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Great. Follow the cord to the plug, and tell me if it's plugged into the wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "Yes, it is."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "When you were behind the monitor, did you notice that there were two cables plugged into the back of it, not just one??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "No."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Well, there are. I need you to look back there again and find the other cable."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "Okay, here it is."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Follow it for me, and tell me if it's plugged securely into the back of your computer."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "I can't reach."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Uh huh. Well, can you see if it is??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "No."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Even if you maybe put your knee on something and lean way over??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "Oh, it's not because I don't have the right angle - it's because it's dark."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Dark??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "Yes - the office light is off, and the only light I have is coming in from the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Well, turn on the office light then."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "I can't."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "No? Why not??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "Because there's a power failure."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "A power......... A power failure? Aha, Okay, we've got it licked now.  Do you still have the boxes and manuals and  packing stuff your computer came in??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "Well, yes, I keep them in the closet."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Good. Go get them, and unplug your system and pack it up just  like it was when you got it. Then take it back to the store you bought it from."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "Really? Is it that bad?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Yes, I'm afraid it is."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caller: "Well, all right then, I suppose. What do I  tell them??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Operator: "Tell them you're too f*%king stupid to own a computer!!!!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115381802855451909?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115381802855451909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115381802855451909' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115381802855451909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115381802855451909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/07/this-is-true-story-from-word-perfect.html' title=''/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115381305994417373</id><published>2006-07-25T00:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T00:37:39.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>WHY WEARING AN UNDERWEAR IS IMPORTANT!!</title><content type='html'>There was this couple who drove their car to Wal-Mart, only to have their car break down in the parking lot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man told his wife to carry on with the shopping while he fixed the car in the lot. The wife returned later to see a small group of people near the car. On closer inspection, she saw a pair of male legs protruding from under the chassis. Although the man was in shorts, his lack of underpants turned private parts into glaringly public ones. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unable to stand the embarrassment, she dutifully stepped forward, quickly put her hand UP his shorts, and tucked everything back into place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On regaining her feet, she looked across the hood and found herself staring at her husband who was standing idly by. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mechanic, however, had to have three stitches in his forehead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115381305994417373?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115381305994417373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115381305994417373' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115381305994417373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115381305994417373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/07/why-wearing-underwear-is-important.html' title='WHY WEARING AN UNDERWEAR IS IMPORTANT!!'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115381239458904271</id><published>2006-07-25T00:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T00:34:51.893-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Employee of the year!!</title><content type='html'>And the award goes to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/1600/image001.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/image001.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115381239458904271?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115381239458904271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115381239458904271' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115381239458904271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115381239458904271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/07/employee-of-year.html' title='Employee of the year!!'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115381168413368211</id><published>2006-07-25T00:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T00:14:44.150-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Loving Husband</title><content type='html'>A man and his ever-nagging wife went on vacation to Jerusalem. While they were there, the wife passed away. The undertaker told the husband, "You can have her shipped home for $5,000, or you can bury her here, in the Holy Land, for $150." The man thought about it and told him he would just have her shipped home. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;The undertaker asked, "Why would you spend $5,000 to ship your wife home, when it would be wonderful to be buried here and you would spend only $150?" &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;The man replied, "Long ago a man died here, was buried here, and three days later he rose from the dead. I just can't take that chance."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115381168413368211?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115381168413368211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115381168413368211' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115381168413368211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115381168413368211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/07/loving-husband.html' title='The Loving Husband'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115373597927171820</id><published>2006-07-24T03:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-24T03:12:59.273-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The grass isn't green on the other side</title><content type='html'>Mr. Gopalkrishnan succeeds Mr.  Ratan Tata as Chairman of Tata Sons Ltd., the holding company for many of the Tata Bluechips - like Tata Steel, Tata Motors,Tata Power, Tata  Chemicals, Voltas, etc.. Possibly, he is the first non-Tata person to  head the Tata Empire.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The below article, written by  him, is really interesting!       &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The grass isn't always greener on the other side !! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Move from one job to another - but only for the right  reasons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's yet another day at office. As I logged on to the marketing  and advertising sites for the latest updates, as usual, I found the  headlines dominated by "who's moving from one company to another after a  short stint", and I wondered, "why are so many people leaving one job  for  another?  Is it passe now to work with just one company for a sufficiently long period"? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever I ask this  question to people who leave a company, the answers I get are   &lt;br /&gt;"Oh, I am getting a 200% hike in  salary";   &lt;br /&gt;"Well, I am jumping three levels in my  designation"; &lt;br /&gt;"Well, they are going to send me abroad in  six months". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I look around at all the people who are  considered successful today and who have reached the top - be it a media  agency, an advertising agency or a company. I find that most of these  people are the ones who have stuck to the company, ground their heels and  worked their way to the top. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, as I look around for people who  changed their jobs constantly, I find they have stagnated at some level, in obscurity! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this absolutely ruthless, dynamic and  competitive environment, there are  still no short-cuts to success or  to making money. The only thing that continues to pay, as earlier, is  Loyalty and Hardwork.  Yes, it pays!  Sometimes - immediately,  sometimes - after a lot of time.  But, it does pay. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does this mean  that one should stick to an organisation and wait for that golden moment ?  Of course not.  After a  long stint, there always comes a time for moving, in most organisations.  But, it is important  to move for the right reasons - rather than superficial ones,  like money, designation or an overseas trip. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember, no company  recruits for charity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More often than not, when you are offered an  unseemly hike in salary or designation that is disproportionate to what  that company offers its current employees, there is always an unseen  bait attached. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The result? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will, in the long-term, have reached exactly  the same levels or maybe lower levels, than what you would have in your  current company. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot of people leave an organisation because they  are "unhappy".  What is this so-called-unhappiness?  I have been  working for donkey's years, and there has never been a day when I am  not unhappy about something in my work - environment, boss, rude colleague,  fussy clients, etc.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unhappiness in a workplace, to a large extent, is  transient.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you look hard enough, there is always something to be  unhappy about.  But, more importantly, do I come to work to be "happy"  in the truest sense ?  If I think hard, the answer is  "No". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happiness is something you find with family, friends, may be a  close circle of colleagues who have become  friends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What you  come to work for is to earn, build a reputation, satisfy your ambitions, be  appreciated for your work ethics, face challenges and get the job  done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the next time you are tempted to move, ask yourself "why are  you moving" and "what are you moving into" ? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some questions are     &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Am I ready and capable of handling the new responsibility?  If yes, what could be the possible reasons my  current company has not offered me the same       responsibility     &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Who are the people who currently handle this  responsibility in the current and the new company?  Am I as  good as the best among them? &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;As the new job offer has a different profile, why have I not given the current company the option to offer me this profile     &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Why is the new company offering me the job  ?  Do they want me for my skills, or is there an ulterior  motive ? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An honest answer to these will eventually decide  where you go in your career - either to the top of the pile, in the  long-term (at the cost of short-term blips), or to become another average  employee who gets lost with time in the wilderness?   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Gopalkrishnan &lt;br /&gt;Chairman - TATA Sons&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115373597927171820?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115373597927171820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115373597927171820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115373597927171820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115373597927171820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/07/grass-isnt-green-on-other-side.html' title='The grass isn&apos;t green on the other side'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115373580164805369</id><published>2006-07-24T03:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-24T03:10:01.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Puzzle</title><content type='html'>Three friends went to a hotel. The bill was Rs 75/- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each one contributed Rs.25/-. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waiter took the bill to the cashier.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cashier was happy &amp; decided to give them a discount of Rs.5/- &amp; asked the waiter to return them Rs.5/-. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the waiter was confused. How to distribute Rs 5 among 3 persons? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He kept Rs 2 in his pocket &amp; gave one rupee to each one of the 3 persons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So initially each one had contributed Rs.25. Now as they are given 1 rupee back, their contribution reduces to Rs 24. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They all contributed Rs 24 -- that is 24x3=72 &amp; 2 rupees are in the waiters pocket. &lt;br /&gt;The total becomes 74. But they had  paid Rs 75. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where is the remaining 1 rupee?.   &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Scroll down &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;.  &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;Check your pocket for 1 Rupee.  &lt;br /&gt;I do not know the answer. If you have solved this please let me know where is that one rupee....????..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115373580164805369?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115373580164805369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115373580164805369' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115373580164805369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115373580164805369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/07/puzzle.html' title='Puzzle'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-115349199087887187</id><published>2006-07-21T07:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T07:26:30.893-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Adsense on my page</title><content type='html'>Today after a lot of efforts and help from friends and bhai i have setup adsense on my blog, now i have to think of puttiing some good content here and start promoting it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-115349199087887187?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/115349199087887187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=115349199087887187' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115349199087887187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/115349199087887187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/07/adsense-on-my-page.html' title='Adsense on my page'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-114717008243234325</id><published>2006-05-09T03:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-09T04:45:37.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Driving in Bangalore/ India</title><content type='html'>This hilarious article was written by a Dutchman who spent two years in Bangalore, India, as a visiting expert. A little long article but worth reading!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the benefit of every Tom, Dick and Harry visiting India and daring to drive on Indian roads, I am offering a few hints for survival. They are applicable to every place in India except Bihar, where life outside a vehicle is only marginally safer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indian road rules broadly operate within the domain of karma where you do your best, and leave the results to your insurance company. The hints are as follows: Do we drive on the left or right of the road? The answer is "both". Basically you start on the left of the road, unless it is occupied. In that case, go to the right, unless that is also occupied. Then proceed by occupying the next available gap, as in chess. Just trust your instincts, ascertain the direction, and proceed. Adherence to road rules leads to much misery and occasional fatality. Most drivers don't drive, but just aim their vehicles in the generally intended direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't you get discouraged or underestimate yourself except for a belief in reincarnation; the other drivers are not in any better position. Don't stop at pedestrian crossings just because some fool wants to cross the road. You may do so only if you enjoy being bumped in the back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pedestrians have been strictly instructed to cross only when traffic is moving slowly or has come to a dead stop because some minister is in town. Still some idiot may try to wade across, but then, let us not talk ill of the dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blowing your horn is not a sign of protest as in some countries. We horn to express joy, resentment, frustration, romance and bare lust (two brisk blasts),or just mobilize a dozing cow in the middle of the bazaar. Keep informative books in the glove compartment. You may read them during traffic jams, while awaiting the chief minister's motorcade, or waiting for the rainwater to recede when over ground traffic meets underground drainage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Occasionally you might see what looks like a UFO with blinking colored lights and weird sounds emanating from within. This is an illuminated bus, full of happy pilgrims singing bhajans. These pilgrims go at breakneck speed, seeking contact with the Almighty, often meeting with success.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Auto Rickshaw (Baby Taxi): The result of a collision between a rickshaw and an automobile, this three-wheeled vehicle works on an external combustion engine that runs on a mixture of kerosene oil and creosote. This triangular vehicle carries iron rods, gas cylinders or passengers three times its weight and dimension, at an unspecified fare. After careful geometric calculations, children are folded and packed into these auto rickshaws until some children in the periphery are not in contact with the vehicle at all. Then their school bags are pushed into the microscopic gaps all round so those minor collisions with other vehicles on the road cause no permanent damage. Of course, the peripheral children are charged half the fare and also learn Newton's laws of motion enroute to school. Auto-rickshaw drivers follow the road rules depicted in the film Ben Hur, and are licensed to irritate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mopeds: The moped looks like an oil tin on wheels and makes noise like an electric shaver. It runs 30 miles on a teaspoon of petrol and travels at break-bottom speed. As the sides of the road are too rough for a ride, the moped drivers tend to drive in the middle of the road; they would rather drive under heavier vehicles instead of around them and are often "mopped" off the tarmac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaning Tower of Passes: Most bus passengers are given free passes and during rush hours, there is absolute mayhem. There are passengers hanging off other passengers, who in turn hang off the railings and the overloaded bus leans dangerously, defying laws of gravity but obeying laws of surface tension. As drivers get paid for overload (so many Rupees per kg of passenger), no questions are ever asked. Steer clear of these buses by a width of three passengers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One-way Street: These boards are put up by traffic people to add jest in their otherwise drab lives. Don't stick to the literal meaning and proceed in one direction. In metaphysical terms, it means that you cannot proceed in two directions at once. So drive as you like, in reverse throughout, if you are the fussy type. Least I sound hypercritical, I must add a positive point also. Rash and fast driving in residential areas has been prevented by providing a "speed breaker"; two for each house. This mound, incidentally, covers the water and drainage pipes for that residence and is left untarred for easy identification by the corporation authorities, should they want to recover the pipe for year-end accounting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Night driving on Indian roads can be an exhilarating experience for those with the mental make up of Genghis Khan. In a way, it is like playing Russian roulette, because you do not know who amongst the drivers is loaded. What looks like premature dawn on the horizon turns out to be a truck attempting a speed record. On encountering it, just pull partly into the field adjoining the road until the phenomenon passes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our roads do not have shoulders, but occasional boulders. Do not blink your lights expecting reciprocation. The only dim thing in the truck is the driver, and with the peg of illicit arrack (alcohol) he has had at the last stop, his total cerebral functions add up to little more than a naught. Truck drivers are the James Bonds of India, and are licensed to kill. Often you may encounter a single powerful beam of light about six feet above the ground. This is not a super motorbike, but a truck approaching you with a single light on, usually the left one. It could be the right one, but never get too close to investigate. You may prove your point posthumously.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-114717008243234325?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/114717008243234325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=114717008243234325' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/114717008243234325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/114717008243234325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/05/driving-in-bangalore-india.html' title='Driving in Bangalore/ India'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21854957.post-113887346116092025</id><published>2006-02-02T01:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T01:44:21.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Statring with a joke</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A Really Bad Day...INDEED!!!&lt;br /&gt;There was this guy at a bar, just looking at his drink. He stays like that for half of an hour. Then, this big trouble-making truck driver steps next to him, takes the drink from the guy, and just drinks it all down. The poor man starts crying. The truck driver says, "Come on man, I was just joking. Here, I'll buy you another drink. I just can't stand to see a man cry."&lt;br /&gt;"No, it's not that. This day is the worst of my life. First, I fall asleep, and I go late to my office. My boss, outrageous, fires me. When I leave the building, to my car, I found out it was stolen. The police said that they can do nothing. I get a cab to return home, and when I leave it, I remember I left my wallet and credit cards there. The cab driver just drives away." "I go home, and when I get there, I find my wife in bed with the gardener. I leave home, and come to this bar. And just when I was thinking about putting an end to my life, you show up and drink my poison."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21854957-113887346116092025?l=pdhansoia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/feeds/113887346116092025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21854957&amp;postID=113887346116092025' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/113887346116092025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21854957/posts/default/113887346116092025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pdhansoia.blogspot.com/2006/02/statring-with-joke.html' title='Statring with a joke'/><author><name>Pushpendra Dhansoia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07772705935689647557</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='33' height='22' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1956/1473/320/_DSC0138.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
