Another one from the Department of Forwarded E-mails:

A wandering monk walked barefoot everywhere he went, to the point that the soles of his feet eventually became quite thick and leathery. And because he ate very little, he gradually became very frail. Several days often passed between opportunities to brush his teeth, so he usually had bad breath. Therefore, throughout the region, he came to be known as the super-calloused fragile mystic plagued with halitosis.

* * *

A few days ago I was having some work done at my local garage. A blonde came in and asked for a "seven-hundred-ten".

We all looked at each other and another customer asked, "What is a seven-hundred-ten?"

She replied, "You know, the little piece in the middle of the engine, I have lost it and need a new one." She replied that she did not know exactly what it was, but this piece had always been there. The mechanic gave her a piece of paper and a pen and asked her to draw what the piece looked like. She drew a circle and in the middle of it wrote 710.

He then took her over to another car which had its hood up and asked "is there a 710 on this car?"

She pointed and said, "Of course, its right there."

This one's a riot!