> A Newfie blonde in Lethbridge wanted to go ice fishing. She'd seen
> many books on the subject and finally getting all the necessary tools together, she headed for the ice.
> After positioning her comfy footstool, she started to make a circular
> cut in the ice. Suddenly, from the sky, a voice boomed, "THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE."
> Startled, the blonde moved further down the ice, poured a thermos of
> cappuccino, and began to cut yet another hole. Again from the heaven the voice bellowed,
THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE."
>
>
> The blonde, now worried, moved away, clear down to the opposite end of
> the ice. She set up her stool once more and tried again to cut her
hole.
> The voice came once more, "THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE."
>
>
> She stopped, looked skyward, and said, "IS THAT YOU LORD?"
>
> The voice replied, "NO, THIS IS THE MANAGER OF THE HOCKEY RINK."
> many books on the subject and finally getting all the necessary tools together, she headed for the ice.
> After positioning her comfy footstool, she started to make a circular
> cut in the ice. Suddenly, from the sky, a voice boomed, "THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE."
> Startled, the blonde moved further down the ice, poured a thermos of
> cappuccino, and began to cut yet another hole. Again from the heaven the voice bellowed,
THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE."
>
>
> The blonde, now worried, moved away, clear down to the opposite end of
> the ice. She set up her stool once more and tried again to cut her
hole.
> The voice came once more, "THERE ARE NO FISH UNDER THE ICE."
>
>
> She stopped, looked skyward, and said, "IS THAT YOU LORD?"
>
> The voice replied, "NO, THIS IS THE MANAGER OF THE HOCKEY RINK."
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