Jokes

[wally2450]

According to a new article in 'Cosmopolitan' magazine,
they say the position you sleep in says a lot about
you. They say women who sleep on their sides are
sensitive, women who sleep on their stomachs are
competent, and women who sleep on their backs with
their ankles behind their ears are very popular.

I read a survey the other day. It said that the 'successful woman'
was one who made $38,500 per year. One of the questions on the survey
was "how many times do you like to make love?" The most popular
answer was 2 times a day.

Two times a day? That's two times, seven days a week, 356 days a
year. That's 738 times a year. You show me a woman who makes love 738
times a year, and I'll show you a woman who makes a lot more than
thirty-eight five.

 

[wally2450]

Betty's girlfriend was relating, "Well after over a half hour of
pretty heavy making out, I asked him, "Are you ready for some oral
sex now?'" Betty commented, "Oh wow, I bet he jumped at that
suggestion?" Her friend said, "Yeah he did, but he damn nearly fell
off the couch when I said, 'Good !... Then you can go home and call
me.'"


At school one day the teacher heard cat noises coming from the class,
and she discovered little Jimmy with a cat up his jumper. She said,
"Why have you got your cat at school?" Little Jimmy started crying.
"I woke up this morning to hear the postman tell Mummy 'I'm gonna eat
your pussy today!"

 

[wally2450]

http://www.pixcastle.com/pic/7320VMGVv/185287.jpg

 

[wally2450]

http://www.pixcastle.com/pic/7320VMGVv/185286.jpg

 

[wally2450]

Dear Abby
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DEAR ABBY: A couple of women moved in across the hall from me. These
two women go everywhere together and I've One is a middle-aged gym
teacher and the other is a social worker in her mid-twenties. never
seen a man go into their apartment or come out. Do you think they
could be Lebanese? -- Curious.
* * * * *

DEAR ABBY: I have a man I never could trust. Why, he cheats so much
I'm not even sure this baby I'm carrying is his.
* * * * *

DEAR ABBY: I am a twenty-three-year-old liberated woman who has been
on the pill for two years. It's getting expensive and I think my
boyfriend should share half the cost, but I don't know him well
enough to discuss money with him.
* * * * *

DEAR ABBY: I suspected that my husband had been fooling around, and
when I confronted him with the evidence he denied everything and said
it would never happen again.
* * * * *

DEAR ABBY: Will you please rush me the name of a reliable
illegitimate doctor?
* * * * *

DEAR ABBY: Our son writes that he is taking Judo. Why would a boy
who was raised in a good Christian home turn against his own?
* * * * *

DEAR ABBY: I joined the Navy to see the world. I've seen it. Now,
how do I get out?
* * * * *

DEAR ABBY: My forty-year-old son has been paying a psychiatrist $50
an hour every week for two-and-a-half years. He must be crazy.
* * * * *

DEAR ABBY: I was married to Bill for three months and I didn't know
he drank until one night he came home sober.
* * * * *

DEAR ABBY: My mother is mean and short-tempered. I think she is
going through mental pause.
* * * * *

DEAR ABBY: I met this nice guy who was in the service. He's the
chief petting officer.

 

[wally2450]

Little Tommy, a good lad from Chester England, was on
vacation in Texas.

His hosts, being very hospitable, invited him to the
local rodeo especially to see the greatest bucking
bronco of all, Blue Steel.

Blue Steel was famed and renowned throughout the West
for being the toughest meanest horse that there ever
was - who had seen off so many would-be riders that
the rodeo organizers had promised $10,000 or anyone
who could ride him just for 10 seconds.

That afternoon, all the local Cowboys tried their
best, but Blue Steel lived up to his reputation and
threw them all off with the greatest of ease.

As a joke the organizers then offered the prize to
anyone in the crowd who would dare to tangle with
such a beast.

Up jumped little Tommy and of course everyone laughed
at him.

But they let him have a go, and they were astounded
when Tommy not only sat on the horse for 10 seconds
and more, while Blue Steel bucked and lunged to throw
him off like never before, but in a few minutes Blue
Steel was so exhausted the he could be ridden in a very
docile way all around the ring.

Everyone was astonished. "Considering you've never
even sat on a horse before, " said Tommy's friends.
"How on earth did you manage that?"

"Easy, , said Tommy "the wife's an epileptic."

 

[wally2450]

Rachel goes into a chemist and asks to see the pharmacist.

"How can I help you, madam?" he says.

"I need some arsenic, please," Rachel replies.

"And what, may I ask, are you needing arsenic for?" the
pharmacist says.

"I want to kill my husband."

"Surely you know," says the pharmacist, "that I can't
sell you any for such a use."

Rachel gives him a photo of a naked man and naked woman
clearly having sex.

Rachel says, "The man is my husband and the woman is,
as I'm sure you have recognised, your wife."

The pharmacist looks at the photo intently and says,
"Oh, I didn't know you had a prescription. I'll go get
you some arsenic."

 

[wally2450]

http://www.pixcastle.com/pic/7320VMGVv/185285.jpg

 

[wally2450]

Two young girls were talking about their sex lives when the first
girl said, "Oh my god!, it was really great, but I was so scared
after his rubber broke. I didn't get a good night's sleep for a
week." "What happened?" said her intrigued friend. She answered, "I
didn't know what I was going to do, but I was finally able to get the
last little piece of it out with dental floss."

 

[wally2450]

http://www.pixcastle.com/pic/7320VMGVv/185479.jpg

 

[wally2450]

On the first night he pulled his revival meeting tent into the
Southern
town, Preacher Bob had a full house. After a long, rousing and sweaty
revival meeting, Preacher Bob says to the crowd, "Now I know that some
of you have been he'in and she'in without the benefit of the sacrament
of marriage. Those of you guilty of this grievous sin are not welcome
back in this tent until you have gotten right with Jesus."

The next night the revival tent is only half full.

After going through the same long, rousing and sweaty revival meeting,
Preacher Bob says to the crowd, "Now I know that some of you have been
he'in and he'in without the benefit of the sacrament of marriage.
Those
of you guilty of this grievous sin are not welcome back in this tent
until you have gotten right with Jesus."

The next night the revival tent in only one quarter full.

After going through the long, rousing and sweaty revival meeting the
third night, Preacher Bob says to the crowd, "Now I know that some of
you have been she'in and she'in without the benefit of the sacrament
of
marriage. Those of you guilty of this grievous sin are not welcome
back
in this tent until you have gotten right with Jesus."

The next night there is only one man left in the audience. It was ol'
Klem, a middle aged virgin due to his lack of sex appeal, even by
hillbilly standards.

Preacher Bob says, "Now brother, you should feel proud that you are
still able to come to this tent tonight. I want you to testify!
Testify how it is that you are able to join me tonight in this holy
tent!"

Klem responds, "Shit preacher, you didn't say nothin' bout me-in and
me-in!"

 

[wally2450]

Good Advice

Sow your wild oats on Saturday night -- Then on Sunday pray for crop
failure.

 

[wally2450]

Three women were sitting around talking about their sex lives. The
first said, "I think my husband's like a championship golfer. He's
spent the last ten years perfecting his stroke." The second woman
said, "My husband's like the winner of the Indy 500. Every time we
get into bed he gives me several hundred exciting laps." The third
woman was silent until she was asked, "Tell us about your husband."
She thought for a moment and said, "My husband's like an Olympic
gold- medal-winning quarter-miler." "How so?" "He's got his time down
to under 40 seconds."

 

[wally2450]

http://www.pixcastle.com/pic/7320VMGVv/185673.jpg

 

[Succulent-one]

It started out innocently enough. I began to think at parties now and then --
just to loosen up. Inevitably, though, one thought led to another, and soon
I was more than just a social thinker.

I began to think alone -- "to relax" I told myself -- but I knew it wasn't true.
Thinking became more and more important to me, and finally I was thinking
all the time.

That was when things began to sour at home. One evening I turned off the
TV and asked my wife about the meaning of life. She spent the night at her
mother's.

I began to think on the job. I knew that thinking and employment don't mix,
but I couldn't help my self.

I began to avoid friends at lunchtime so I could read Thoreau, Muir, Confucius
and Kafka. I would return to the office dizzed and confused, asking, "What is
it exactly we are doing here?"

One day my boss called me in. He said, "Listen, I like you, and it hurts me
to say this, but your thinking has become a real problem. If you don't stop
thinking on the job, you'll have to find another job."

This gave me a lot to think about. I came home early after my conversation
with the boss. "Honey, " I confessed, "I've been thinking..."

"I know you've been thinking," she said, "and I want a divorce!"

"But Honey, surely it's not that serious."

"It is serious," she said, lower lip aquiver. "You think as much as college
professors and college professors don't make any money, so if you keep
on thinking, we won't have any money!"

"That's a faulty syllogism," I said impatiently.

She exploded in tears of rage and frustration, but I was in no mood to
deal with the emotional drama. "I'm going to the library," I snarled as
I stomped out the door.

I headed for the library, in the mood for some Nietzsche. I roared into
the parking lot with NPR on the radio and ran up to the big glass doors.
They didn't open. The library was closed.

To this day, I believe that a Higher Power was looking out for me that
night. Leaning on the unfeeling glass, whimpering for Zarathustra, a
poster caught me eye, "Friend, is heavy thinking ruining your life?" it
asked.

You probably recognize that line. It comes from the standard Thinkers
Anonymous poster.

This is why I am what I am today: a recovering thinker. I never miss a TA
meeting. At each meeting we watch a non-educational video; last night
it was "Porky's". Then we share experiences about how we avoided
thinking since the last meeting.

I still have my job, and things are better at home. Life just seemed
easier, somehow, as soon as I stopped thinking. I think the road to
recovery is nearly complete for me.

Today I took the final step.....I joined the Republican Party.

 

[wally2450]

It started out innocently enough. I began to think at parties now and then --
just to loosen up. Inevitably, though, one thought led to another, and soon
I was more than just a social thinker.

I began to think alone -- "to relax" I told myself -- but I knew it wasn't true.
Thinking became more and more important to me, and finally I was thinking
all the time.

That was when things began to sour at home. One evening I turned off the
TV and asked my wife about the meaning of life. She spent the night at her
mother's.

I began to think on the job. I knew that thinking and employment don't mix,
but I couldn't help my self.

I began to avoid friends at lunchtime so I could read Thoreau, Muir, Confucius
and Kafka. I would return to the office dizzed and confused, asking, "What is
it exactly we are doing here?"

One day my boss called me in. He said, "Listen, I like you, and it hurts me
to say this, but your thinking has become a real problem. If you don't stop
thinking on the job, you'll have to find another job."

This gave me a lot to think about. I came home early after my conversation
with the boss. "Honey, " I confessed, "I've been thinking..."

"I know you've been thinking," she said, "and I want a divorce!"

"But Honey, surely it's not that serious."

"It is serious," she said, lower lip aquiver. "You think as much as college
professors and college professors don't make any money, so if you keep
on thinking, we won't have any money!"

"That's a faulty syllogism," I said impatiently.

She exploded in tears of rage and frustration, but I was in no mood to
deal with the emotional drama. "I'm going to the library," I snarled as
I stomped out the door.

I headed for the library, in the mood for some Nietzsche. I roared into
the parking lot with NPR on the radio and ran up to the big glass doors.
They didn't open. The library was closed.

To this day, I believe that a Higher Power was looking out for me that
night. Leaning on the unfeeling glass, whimpering for Zarathustra, a
poster caught me eye, "Friend, is heavy thinking ruining your life?" it
asked.

You probably recognize that line. It comes from the standard Thinkers
Anonymous poster.

This is why I am what I am today: a recovering thinker. I never miss a TA
meeting. At each meeting we watch a non-educational video; last night
it was "Porky's". Then we share experiences about how we avoided
thinking since the last meeting.

I still have my job, and things are better at home. Life just seemed
easier, somehow, as soon as I stopped thinking. I think the road to
recovery is nearly complete for me.

Today I took the final step.....I joined the Republican Party.

 

[wally2450]

I watched an ant climb a blade of grass this morning. When he reached
the top, his weight bent the blade down to the ground. Then, twisting
his thorax with insectile precision, he grabbed hold of the next
blade.
In this manner, he traveled across the lawn, covering as much distance
vertically as he did horizontally, which amused and delighted me. And
then, all at once, I had what is sometimes called an "epiphany", a
moment of heightened awareness in which everything becomes clear. Yes,
hunched over that ant on my hands and knees, I suddenly knew what I
had
to do... Quit drinking before noon.

 

[wally2450]

Florence and Emily, two pretty young housewives, had arranged to have
cocktails and lunch together, but as soon as they met, Emily could
see that something serious was bothering her friend. "Out with it,
Florence," she commanded. "What's depressing you so?" "I'm ashamed to
admit it," Florence wailed, "but I caught my husband making love."
"Why let that bother you?" laughed Emily. "I got mine the same way."

 

[wally2450]

http://www.pixcastle.com/pic/7320VMGVv/186202.jpg

 

[wally2450]

Natural Selection in Employment


1. Place 400 bricks in a closed room.

2. Escort your new hires in the room and close the door.

3. Leave them alone and come back after six hours.

4. Then analyze the situation:

a. If they are counting the bricks, put them in the
accounting department.

b. If they are recounting them, put them in auditing.

c. If they have messed up the whole place with the
bricks, put them in engineering.

d. If they are arranging the bricks in some strange
order, put them in planning.

e. If they are throwing the bricks at each other, put
them in operations.

f. If they are all sleeping, put them in security.

g. If they have broken the bricks into pieces, put
them in information technology.

h. If they are sitting idle, put them in human resources.

i. If they say they have tried different combinations,
they are looking for more, yet not a brick has been
moved, put them in sales.

j. If they have already left for the day, put them in
marketing.

k. If they are staring out of the window, put them in
strategic planning.

l. If they are talking to each other, and not a single
brick has been moved, congratulate them and put the
in top management.

Finally, if they have surrounded themselves with bricks
in such a way that they can neither be seen nor heard
from, put them in Congress.

 

[wally2450]

Baseball in Heaven

Two 90-year-old men, Moe and Joe, have been friends all of their lives.

> When it's clear that Joe is dying, Moe visits him every day. One day Moe

> says, "Joe, we both loved baseball all our lives, and we played minor

> league ball together for so many years. Please do me one favor: when you

> get to Heaven, somehow you must let me know if there's baseball there."

>

> Joe looks up at Moe from his deathbed, "Moe, you've been my best friend

> for many years. If it's at all possible, I'll do this favor for you."

> Shortly after that, Joe passes on.

>

> At midnight a couple of nights later, Moe is awakened from a sound sleep

> by a blinding flash of white light and a voice calling out to him, "Moe,

> Moe."

>

> "Who is it?" asks Moe, sitting up suddenly. "Who is it?"

>

> "Moe -- it's me, Joe."

>

> "You're not Joe. Joe just died. "

>

> "I'm telling you, it's me, Joe," insists the voice.

>

> "Joe! Where are you?"

>

> "In Heaven," replies Joe. "I have some really good news and a little bad

> news."

>

> "Tell me the good news first," says Moe.

>

> "The good news," Joe says, "is that there's baseball in Heaven. Better

> yet, all of our old buddies who died before us are here, too. Better than

> that, we're all young again. Better still, it's always springtime, and it

> never rains or snows. And best of all, we can play baseball all we want,

> and we never get tired."

>

> "That's fantastic," says Moe. "It's beyond my wildest dreams! So what's

> the bad news?"

>

> "You're pitching Tuesday."

 

[wally2450]

http://www.pixcastle.com/pic/7320VMGVv/186536.jpg

 

[wally2450]

There was an earthquake at the Christian Brothers' Monastery, which
was leveled. All fifty brothers were killed and went to heaven at
the same time.

At the Pearly Gates, St Peter said, "Let's go through the entry test
as a group. First question, how many of you have played around with
little boys?"

Forty-nine hands went up.

"Okay, right!" said St Peter. "You forty-nine can go down to
Purgatory to atone for that before you can enter Heaven. Oh, and take
that deaf bastard with you!"

 

[wally2450]

Why Women Are Crabby

We started to "bud" in our blouses at 9 or 10 years old only to find
that anything that came in contact with those tender, blooming buds
hurt so bad it brought us to tears. So came the ridiculously
uncomfortable training bra contraption that the boys in school would
snap until we had calluses on our backs.

Next, we get our periods in our early to mid-teens (or sooner). Along
with those budding boobs, we bloated, we cramped, we got the hormone
crankies, had to wear little mattresses between our legs or insert
tubular, packed cotton rods in places we didn't even know we had.

Our next little rite of passage was having sex for the first time
which was about as much fun as having a ramrod push your uterus
through your nostrils (IF he did it right and didn't end up with his
little cart before his horse), leaving us to wonder what all the fuss
was about.

Then it was off to Motherhood where we learned to live on dry
crackers and water for a few months so we didn't spend the entire day
leaning over Brother John. Of course, amazing creatures that we are
(and we are), we learned to live with the growing little angels
inside us steadily kicking our innards night and day making us wonder
if we were preparing to have Rosemary's Baby.

Our once flat bellies looked like we swallowed a whole watermelon and
we pee'd our pants every time we sneezed. When the big moment
arrived, the dam in our blessed Nether Regions invariably burst right
in the middle of the mall and we had to waddle, with our big cartoon
feet, moaning in pain all the way to the ER.

Then it was huff and puff and beg to die while the OB says, "Please
stop screaming, Mrs. Hearmeroar Calm down and push. "Just one more
good push" (more like 10), warranting a strong, well-deserved impulse
to punch the
%$#*@*#!* hubby and doctor square in the nose for making us cram a
wiggling, mushroom-headed 10 pound bowling ball through a keyhole.

After that, it was time to raise those angels only to find that when
all that "cute" wears off, the beautiful little darlings morphed into
walking, jabbering, wet, gooey, snot-blowing,life-sucking little poop
machines.

Then come their "Teen Years." Need I say more?

When the kids are almost grown, we women hit our voracious sexual
prime in our early 40's - while hubby had his somewhere around his
18th birthday.

So we progress into the grand finale: "The Menopause," the
Grandmother of all womanhood. It's either take HRT and chance cancer
in those now seasoned "buds" or the aforementioned Nether Regions,
or, sweat like a hog in July, wash your sheets and pillowcases daily
and bite the head off anything that moves.

Now, you ask WHY women seem to be more spiteful than men, when men
get off so easy, INCLUDING the icing on life's cake: Being able to
pee in the woods without soaking their socks...

So, while I love being a woman, "Womanhood" would make the Great
Gandhi a tad crabby. You think women are the "weaker sex?" Yeah
right. Bite me.

Rose

 

[wally2450]

While inspecting their honeymoon hotel room the bride discovered a
little box attached to the bed. "What's this for?" she asked her
husband. "If you put a quarter in," he answered, reaching into his
pocket, "the bed starts vibrating." "Save your money," she said.
"When you're a quarter in, I start vibrating!"