A modest young lady had just purchased some lingerie and asked if she might have the sentence, ‘If you can read this, you’re too damned close’ embroidered on her panties and bra. “Yes, madam,” said the clerk, “I’m quite certain that could be done. Would you prefer block or script letters?” “Braille!” she replied.
Author: admin
Yo mama
one day i came over your house stepped on a cockroach and yo mama screamed why did you just kill our family pet
Toothbrushes
A little girl accidentally walks in on her father while he’s
getting dressed. She points to his dick and says, “Daddy, what’s
that?” Not wanting to explain sex to her yet, he says, “Uh, I
can’t tell you, it’s a secret.” The little girl finds her mother
and asks, “What is that long thing between Daddy’s legs?” Her
mother also doesn’t want to explain sex yet, so she says, “I
don’t know, he won’t tell me.”
A couple days later the little girl says to her mother. “Mommy,
I finally figured out what that thing between Daddy’s legs is.
It’s a toothbrush!” “Why do you think that?” the amused mother
asks.
“Because,” the little girl says, “this morning I saw the maid
sliding it in and out of her mouth and she had toothpaste
dripping down her chin.”
Priest and Rabbi…
A Priest and a Rabbi walk into a bar. After sitting down, ordering, and chitchat the Priest says “Have you noticed there are no women in this bar?” He then realizes the truth “I think we’re in a gay bar.” A man approaches and is trying to flirt with the priest. The priest is dumbfounded, and doesn’t know what to do. The Rabbi leans over and whispers something in the mans ear. The man walks off. The Priest says “Thanks, but what did you tell him.”The Rabbi replies “I just told him we’re on our honeymoon.”
Tuns of Puns! Part IV
What do you get when you have a cow and a duck?
Milk and quackers.
What does an envelope say when you lick it?
Nothing, it just shuts up.
What does Michael Jackson call his “Tickle-me Elmo” doll?
Bait.
What goes “99 thump 99 thump 99 thump…?”
A centipede with a wooden leg.
What goes “Tick tock, woof woof”?
A watch dog.
What is a reptile’s favorite movie?
The Lizard of Oz.
What is Beethoven doing in his coffin right now?
Decomposing.
What kind of reptile tells time?
A clock-odile.
What kind of snack do little monkeys have with their milk?
Chocolate chimp cookies.
What magazine do cats like to read?
Good Mousekeeping.
What’s happening when you hear “woof…splat…meow…splat?”
It’s raining cats and dogs.
Haircut before a trip
A man was getting a haircut prior to a trip to Rome. He mentioned the trip to the barber who responded, “Rome? Why would anyone want to go there?It’s crowded & dirty and full of Italians. You’re crazy to go to Rome.So, how are you getting there?””We’re taking TWA,” was the reply. “We got a great rate!””TWA?” exclaimed the barber. “That’s a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are ugly, and they’re always late.So, where are you staying in Rome?””We’ll be at the downtown International Marriott.””That dump! That’s the worst hotel in the city. The rooms are small, the service is surly and they’re overpriced. So, whatcha doing when you get there?””We’re going to go to see the Vatican and we hope to see the Pope.””That’s rich,” laughed the barber. “You and a million other people trying to see him. He’ll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on this lousy trip of yours. You’re going to need it.”A month later, the man again came in for his regular haircut. The barber asked him about his trip to Rome.”It was wonderful,” explained the man, “not only were we on time in one of TWA’s brand new planes, but it was overbooked and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were wonderful, and I had a beautiful 28 year old stewardess who waited on me hand and foot.And the hotel-it was great! They’d just finished a $25 million remodeling job and now it’s the finest hotel in the city. They, too, were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us the presidential suite at no extra charge!””Well,” muttered the barber, “I know you didn’t get to see the pope.””Actually, we were quite lucky, for as we toured the Vatican, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder and explained that the pope likes to personally meet some of the visitors, and if I’d be so kind as to step into his private room and wait the pope would personally greet me. Sure enough, five minutes later the pope walked through the door and shook my hand! I knelt down as he spoke a few words to me.””Really?” asked the Barber. “What’d he say?”He said, “Where’d you get the lousy haircut?
Tired of male bashing?
How many men does it take to open a beer?
None. It should be opened by the time she brings it.
Why is a Laundromat a really bad place to pick up a woman?
Because a woman who can’t even afford a washing machine will never be able to support you.
Why do women have smaller feet than men?
So they can stand closer to the kitchen sink.
How do you know when a woman is about to say something smart?
When she starts her sentence with “A man once told me…”
How do you fix a woman’s watch?
You don’t. There’s a clock on the oven.
Why do men pass gas more than women?
Because women won’t shut up long enough to build up pressure.
If your dog is barking at the back door and your wife is yelling at the front door, who do you let in first?
The dog of course. At least he’ll shut up after you let him in.
All wives are alike, but they have different faces so you can tell them apart.
What’s worse than a Male Chauvinist Pig?
A woman that won’t do what she’s told!
Msg Duke of Wgtn
MESSAGE FROM THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON TO THE BRITISH FOREIGN OFFICE IN LONDON–written from Central Spain, August 1812
Gentlemen,
Whilst marching from Portugal to a position which commands the approach to Madrid and the French forces, my officers have been diligently complying with your requests which have been sent by H.M. ship from London to Lisbon and thence by dispatch to our headquarters.
We have enumerated our saddles, bridles, tents and tent poles, and all manner of sundry items for which His Majesty’s Government holds me accountable. I have dispatched reports on the character, wit, and spleen of every officer. Each item and every farthing has been accounted for, with two regrettable exceptions for which I beg your indulgence.
Unfortunately the sum of one shilling and ninepence remains unaccounted for in one infantry battalion’s petty cash and there has been a hideous confusion as the the number of jars of raspberry jam issued to one cavalry regiment during a sandstorm in western Spain. This reprehensible carelessness may be related to the pressure of circumstance, since we are war with France, a fact which may come as a bit of a surprise to you gentlemen in Whitehall.
This brings me to my present purpose, which is to request elucidation of my instructions from His Majesty’s Government so that I may better understand why I am dragging an army over these barren plains. I construe that perforce it must be one of two alternative duties, as given below. I shall pursue either one with the best of my ability, but I cannot do both:
1. To train an army of uniformed British clerks in Spain for the benefit of the accountants and copy-boys in London or perchance.
2. To see to it that the forces of Napoleon are driven out of Spain.
Your most obedient servant,
Wellington
Dave Barry on Halloween
I love Halloween. It reminds me of my happy childhood days as a student at
Wampus Elementary School in Armonk, N.Y., when we youngsters used to
celebrate Halloween by making decorations out of construction paper and
that white paste that you could eat. This is also how we celebrated
Columbus Day, Washington’s Birthday, Lincoln’s Birthday, Thanksgiving,
Christmas, Easter, New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, Father’s
Day, Armistice Day, Flag Day, Arbor Day, Thursday, etc. We brought these
decorations home to our parents, who by federal law were required to
attach them to the refrigerator with magnets.
That was a wonderful, carefree time in which to be a youngster or
construction-paper salesperson. But it all ended suddenly one day — I’ll
never forget it — when the Soviet Union launched the first satellite,
called “Sputnik” (which is Russian for “Little Sput”). Immediately all
the grown-ups in America became hysterical about losing the Space Race,
which led to a paranoid insecurity about our educational system, expressed
in anguished newspaper headlines asking, “WHY AREN’T OUR KIDS LEARNING IN
SCHOOL?” I wanted to answer, “BECAUSE ALL WE EVER DO IS MAKE DECORATIONS
OUT OF CONSTRUCTION PAPER,” but I couldn’t, because my mouth was full of
paste.
But getting back to Halloween: It’s still one of the most fun holidays of
the year, as well as one of the most traditional, tracing its origins back
more than 2,000 years to the Druids, an ancient religious cult that
constructed Stonehenge as well as most of the public toilets in England.
The Druids believed that one night each year, at the end of October, the
souls of the dead returned to the world of the living and roamed from
house to house costumed as Power Rangers.
And thus it is that to this day, youngsters come to our door on Halloween
night shouting: “Trick or treat!” According to tradition, if we don’t
give the youngsters a “treat,” their parents will “sue” us. That’s why
most of us traditionally prepare for Halloween by going to the supermarket
and purchasing approximately eight metric tons of miniature candy bars,
which we dump into a big bowl by the door, ready to hand out to the hordes
of trick-or-treaters.
The irony, of course, is that there ARE no hordes of trick-or-treaters,
not any more. We in the news media make darned sure of that. Every year we
publish dozens of helpful consumer-advice articles, cheerfully reminding
parents of the dangers posed by traffic, perverts, poisoned candy, and
many other Halloween hazards that parents would never think of if we
didn’t remind them (“Have fun, but remember that this year more than
17,000 Americans will die bobbing for apples”).
The result is that many children aren’t allowed to go trick-or-treating,
and the ones who ARE allowed out come to your house no later than 4:30
p.m., wearing reflective tape on their Power Rangers costumes and trailed
at close range by their parents, who watch you suspiciously and regard
whatever candy you hand out as though it were unsolicited mail from the
Unabomber.
So for most of Halloween, your doorbell is quiet. This means that you pass
the long night alone, hour after hour, just you and the miniature candy
bars. After a while they start calling seductively to you from their bowl
in their squeaky little voices.
“Hey, Big Boy!” they call. “We’re going to waste over here!”
As the evening wears on they become increasingly brazen. Eventually they
crawl across the floor, climb up your body, unwrap themselves and force
themselves bodily into your mouth. There’s no use hiding in the bathroom,
because they’ll just crawl under the door and tie you up with dental floss
and threaten to squeeze toothpaste in your eye unless you eat them. At
least that’s what they do to me. By the end of the night my blood has the
same sugar content as Yoo-Hoo.
But eating huge amounts of candy allegedly purchased for youngsters is
only part of the Halloween tradition. The other part is buying a pumpkin
and carving it to make a “jack-o’-lantern,” which sits on your front
porch, a festive symbol of the age-old truth — first discovered by the
Druids — that there is no practical use for pumpkins.
Here’s how to make a traditional jack-o’-lantern:
1. Cut a lid on top of the pumpkin.
2. Pull off the lid and peer down into the slimy, festering pumpkin bowels.
3. Put the lid back on and secure it with 200 feet of duct tape.
(This is also the traditional procedure for stuffing a turkey.)
But however you celebrate Halloween, make sure you remember this important
safety tip: (IMPORTANT SAFETY TIP GOES HERE). Otherwise, you will not
survive the night. I’d give you more details, but right now I need to do
something about these tiny Milky Ways crawling up my legs.
How True Doc…
A man asked his doctor if he thought he’d live to be a hundred.
The doctor asked the man, “Do you smoke or drink?”
“No,” he replied, “I’ve never done either.”
“Do you gamble, drive fast cars, and fool around with women?” inquired the doctor.
“No, I’ve never done any of those things either.”
“Well then,” said the doctor, “what do you want to live to be a hundred for?”
Yo momma
yo momma is so fat when she puts on a belt it seems like the equater.
Miscellaneous yo mama joke
Yo mama feet are so big her shoes have to have license plates!