Now this was really funny

[shy slave]

A girl walks into a bar and sits next to a guy wearing a ten-gallon hat. She asks him if he is a cowboy.
“ I rope steers and brand them, I ride horses and round up cattle and I love the rodeo, so I suppose I am a cowboy.

What’s your story?” he asks.
“I’m a lesbian “ the girl answers “ I wake up thinking of women, when I shower I think of women, all day at work and when I go to bed I think of women”.

Another women enters the bar and sits on the other side of the guy in the ten-gallon hat and asks him if he is a cowboy.
I thought I was Says the guy “ but it turns out I’m a lesbian”

 

[shy slave]

For every good Catholic girl who was led astray.....

The Irish daughter had not been to the house for over 5 years.
Upon her return, her father cussed her,
"Where have you been all this time, you ingrate! Why didn't you write us, not even a line to let us know how you were doing? Why didn't you call? You little tramp! Don't you know what you put your Mum through?"

The girl, crying, replied, "Sniff, sniff...Dad... I became a prostitute..."
"WHAT? Out of here, you shameless harlot! Sinner! You're a disgrace to this family - I don't want to see you again!"

"OK, Dad - as you wish. I just came back to give Mom this luxury fur coat, title deeds to a ten bed-room mansion, plus a savings account certificate for £5 million. For my little brother, this gold Rolex, and for you Daddy the spanking new Mercedes Limited Edition convertible that's parked outside plus a lifetime membership to the Country Club...(takes a breath)---an invitation for you all to spend New Year's Eve on board my new yacht in the Riviera, and..."

"Now what was it you said you had become?"

Girl, crying again, "Sniff, sniff ... ... A Prostitute Dad, ... .. sniff, sniff."

"Oh! Be Jesus! - - You scared me half to death, girl! .... I thought you said a Protestant!!! Come here and give your old man a hug."

 

[WriterDom]

Georgia Tech cheerleaders are so ugly when they mash their faces in dough you get monster cookies

 

[Gil_T2]

THE 12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS (BDSM STYLE)

On the 1st day of Christmas, my MASTER gave to me...
A Small Feather Pillow for my knees.

On the 2nd day of Christmas, my MASTER gave to me...
2 Nipple Clamps and a Small Feather Pillow for my knees.

On the 3rd day of Christmas, my MASTER gave to me...
3 Blindfolds, 2 Nipple Clamps and a Small Feather Pillow for my
knees.

On the 4th day of Christmas, my MASTER gave to me...
4 Ball Gags, 3 Blindfolds, 2 Nipple Clamps and a Small Feather
Pillow for my knees.

On the 5th day of Christmas, my MASTER gave to me...
FIVE ANAL BEADS, 4 Ball Gags, 3 Blindfolds, 2 Nipple Clamps and a Small Feather Pillow for my knees.

On the 6th day of Christmas, my MASTER gave to me...
6 Tubes of KY, FIVE ANAL BEADS,.4 Ball Gags, 3 Blindfolds, 2 Nipple Clamps and a Small Feather Pillow for my knees.

On the 7th day of Christmas, my MASTER gave to me...
7 Crops a Swinging, 6 Tubes of KY, FIVE ANAL BEADS, 4 Ball Gags, 3 Blindfolds, 2 Nipple Clamps and a Small Feather Pillow for my knees.

On the 8th day of Christmas, my MASTER gave to me...
8 Floggers Flogging, 7 Crops a Swinging, 6 Tubes of KY, FIVE ANAL BEADS, 4 Ball Gags, 3 Blindfolds, 2 Nipple Clamps and a Small Feather Pillow for my knees.

On the 9th day of Christmas, my MASTER gave to me...
9 Candles Dripping, 8 Floggers Flogging, 7 Crops a Swinging, 6
Tubes of KY, FIVE ANAL BEADS, 4 Ball Gags, 3 Blindfolds, 2 Nipple Clamps and a Small Feather Pillow for my knees.

On the 10th day of Christmas, my MASTER gave to me...
10 Lords a Whipping, 9 Candles Dripping, 8 Floggers Flogging, 7
Crops a Swinging, 6 Tubes of KY, FIVE ANAL BEADS, 4 Ball Gags, 3 Blindfolds, 2 Nipple Clamps and a Small Feather Pillow for my knees.

On the 11th day of Christmas, my MASTER gave to me...
11 Pairs of Stockings, 10 Lords a Whipping, 9 Candles Dripping, 8
Floggers Flogging, 7 Crops a Swinging, 6 Tubes of KY, FIVE ANAL BEADS, 4 Ball Gags, 3 Blindfolds, 2 Nipple Clamps and a Small Feather Pillow for my knees.

On the 12th day of Christmas, my MASTER gave to me...
12 Orgasms Screaming, 11 Pairs of Stockings, 10 Lords a Whipping, 9 Candles Dripping, 8 Floggers Flogging, 7 Crops a Swinging, 6 Tubes of KY, FIVE ANAL BEADS, 4 Ball Gags, 3 Blindfolds, 2 Nipple Clamps and a Small Feather Pillow for my knees.

 

[m wisdom]

Dyslexic Pr0n

 

[neonflux]

Dyslexic Pr0n

he he he he he...

 

[Bandit58]

Got this in an email

Just something to think about before doing to the doctors for that next appointment. While repairing a piece of medical equipment ASAP and while waiting for it to cool I got a fair chance to exchange words with the nurse that brought it. I had expressed my feeling on how nice it was that all that hard work learning how to be a nurse to help heal the sick,she laughed with an evil smile.

She expressed how much fun it was to play with naked people all day,strip them of any modesty they ever had,engage in needle play, enema and other water sports, squash naked breasts to the size of a credit card high and go take your break leaving them that way, play with male equipment till they blush from getting too excited, run 35 feet of hose up their cute naked butts, and do other unspeakable things to the human body that would make the Spanish inquisition look pale in comparison and get paid 70,000 a year while being an accepted member of the community. While Pro Dommes could get
arrested she gets a pat on the back,good job!!!.

One word comes to mind here: when going to see one,never ever piss one off unless you like real torture that is!

 

[Gil_T2]

Amazing what you find on the NET.

Bondage in Christ -
BDSM in a Christian Marriage
December 8, 2005



There has been an ongoing debate in the Christian community about whether or not Christians can engage in BDSM (Bondage & Discipline/Dominant – submissive/Sadomasochism) practices without sinning. Although BDSM can involve literal bondage (being hand-cuffed, tied up, etc.) and discipline (such as verbal chastisement or corporal punishment), it is best understood as a metaphorical relationship between husband and wife and in terms of spiritual submission, which is an important theme in the New Testament. A BDSM relationship between a dominant husband and submissive wife is actually the ideal of marriage set out in Ephesians 5:22-26 taken to its logical conclusion! Let us explain further.

Spiritual Submission - The Ideal of Marriage
Most of us are familiar with this famous scriptural blueprint for a Christian marriage:

22 Wives, submit to your own husbands as to the Lord, 23 for the husband is head of the wife as also Christ is head of the church. He is the Savior of the body. 24 Now as the church submits to Christ, so wives should submit to their husbands in everything. 25 Husbands, love your wives, just as also Christ loved the church and gave Himself for her, 26 to make her holy, cleansing her in the washing of water by the word. (Ephesians 5:22-26)
The husband and wife who choose to enter into a consensual Dominant/submissive relationship are choosing to fully enact this commandment in their sexual life, a choice that is valid and honorable, and may bring them both deep sexual and spiritual fulfillment. BDSM, practiced responsibly, can be a tool of growth for both partners in a Christian marriage, as it allows them to more fully explore God's plan for spiritual and sexual partnership.

Just as we trust in the Lord in our submission to Him and willingly offer it, a wife who is submissive to her husband is offering a great spiritual gift and doing a great service for both herself and her husband. In Christianity, submission is holy. Even Christ, the Son of God, was submissive to the Lord:

7 In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was
able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission. (Hebrews 5:7)

When God says submit, He means submit completely, because He has a higher purpose in mind for us. When Hagar ran away from Sarah, she was sent back by a divine messenger: Then the Angel of the Lord said to her, "You must go back to your mistress and submit to her mistreatment." (Genesis 16:9) What appears to outsiders to be an "abusive" situation may in fact have a much different meaning; in this case, Hagar needed to return to fulfill her service to the house of Abraham.

BDSM does not necessarily have to involve whips and chains, black leather, or dungeon gear, although if they find these props help them get in the mood, there is not reason why Christians should not use them. There's nothing sinful about these items. In fact, they are part of the Christian heritage. As Paul wrote to the Corinthians, I beat my body and bring it into submission, for fear that by any means, that after I have preached to others, I myself should be rejected. (1 Corinthians 9:27) Many SM devices, such as floggers, whips, clamps, chastity belts, and the cat o'nine tails, bear close resemblance to used a wide array of devices early Christian penitents to whip their bodies and mortify their flesh. They did this to submit their bodies to Christ, to emulate his suffering on the Cross, and purify themselves spiritually and attain a closer union with God. Many BDSM practitioners describe a feeling of spiritual union with their partners that transcends physical sexuality.

Despite the misleading impressions that such common BDSM practices as spanking, humiliation, and name-calling may give, they are only performed in the context of a loving relationship to fulfill the higher purpose of strengthening emotional, sexual, and spiritual bonds. Just as we trust the Lord, the submissive partner offers total trust to the Dominant partner, knowing that the end result will be redemption and satisfaction: 29 Let him submit absolutely; there may yet be hope. 30 Let him offer his cheek to the one who strikes it, and receive his fill of insults. (Lamentations 3:29-30)

Nevertheless, we want to emphasize that consensual BDSM relationships are not abusive, either physically or emotionally, especially not in a Christian marriage. Because the husband is obligated to care for his wife as Christ cared for the church, he must always have her best interest in mind and treat her with the utmost love and respect. However, as we will see, that does not exclude well-reasoned and loving discipline.

Loving Bondage and Discipline

Bondage and discipline are part of the spiritual tradition of Christianity, and are reflected in how a loving, all-knowing God guides his followers and instructs them in His will.

8 If people are bound with chains and trapped by the cords of affliction, 9 God tells them what they have done and how arrogantly they have transgressed. 10 He opens their ears to correction and insists they repent from iniquity. 11 If they serve Him obediently, they will end their days in prosperity and their years in happiness. (Job 36:8-11)

As God looks after us, in Christian BDSM, the husband looks after both his wife's spiritual growth and her physical needs, and the wife submits to her husband for guidance and fulfillment. For these reasons, the husband may find it appropriate to discipline her as needed, in a spirit of love. He disciplines her as God disciplines all of us believers, and as we read in Hebrews, this may smart at the time, but is always for our own good:

5 My son, do not take the Lord's discipline lightly, or faint when you are reproved by Him; 6 for the Lord disciplines the one He loves, and punishes every son whom He receives…He does it for our benefit, so that we can share His holiness. 11 No discipline seems enjoyable at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it yields the fruit of peace and righteousness to those who have been trained by it. (Hebrews 12:5-11)

Of course, we are not endorsing any sort of abuse or nonconsensual violence. BDSM is not "wife beating" or domestic violence. There is a huge difference between punishment inflicted out of anger and cruelty by one person overpowering another, and discipline that is meted out with love and reason, gratefully and willingly received. Those who participate in bondage and discipline and sadomasochism do so of their own free will and by mutual agreement, and as with the Dominant/submissive relationship, it takes two to tango. Although it may seem like the person who ties the knots or wields the paddle holds all the power, if BDSM is practiced respectfully and ethically, the power is shared. The husband should always respect the limits of his wife with respect to pain or humiliation, so that he does not inflict any real physical or emotional harm on her.

Can a Man Be Submissive to His Wife?

This is a tricky question but a very important one that needs to be addressed. We believe that a man can adopt a submissive and servile role and allow his wife to dominate him sexually, if it is absolutely clear that outside of the bedroom, the husband is the spiritual head of the marriage. Just as a woman gives the gift of submission to her husband, there is no reason why, for their mutual sexual gratification, a man should not submit his body to his wife for her use and serve her sexually. This is totally in alignment with the Biblical command that husband and wife give each other "due benevolence"; her body is meant for his sexual enjoyment and vice versa. However, this reversal of roles in the context of sexual relations is only possible due to the sanctity of the marriage bed, and an explicit understanding on the parts of both the husband and wife that they will adopt “natural” roles in the rest of their daily lives. We would counsel against couples living the wife dominant/husband submissive roles “24/7”, as this could lead to spiritual confusion.

 

[graceanne]

Hey Guys, I got a new set of Wiper Blades on my car. I think they might be too big because they hang over the edges a little, but I don't care, they work great and I would have to say that they are the only blades I have ever had that I actually like to watch working. Call me crazy, but lately I have been driving around non-stop with them on. I've even been pulled over and the cop asked to go for a ride so he could watch them work.

They were outrageously expensive, but safety is my main concern and like I said, they work great.

Let me know if you would like a pair for your car.

http://i67.photobucket.com/albums/h284/graceanne1978/ShowLetter.jpg

 

[graceanne]

A South American scientist from Argentina, after a lengthy study, has
discovered that people with insufficient brain and sexual activity
surf the net with their hand on the mouse.


Don't bother taking it off now; it's too late.

 

[WriterDom]

this is funny

"The Steakhouse Incident"

Now, I know that there is a lot of embellishment that occurs on this group and I am aware that a small number of things are perhaps sheer fabrication, but I have a story to tell that is the absolute truth. Funniest damn thing that has ever happened to me.

A couple of weeks ago we decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steakhouse for dinner. It was a Wednesday night which means that macaroni and beef was on the hot bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served. Wednesday night is also kid's night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering from table to table entertaining the little bastards. It may seem that the events about to be told have little connection to those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment.

We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that evening, I tell you -- in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into my belly. I was sated. Perhaps a bit too much, however.

I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At first, I thought it was only gas which could have been passed in batches right at the table without to much concern. Unfortunately, that was not to be. After a minute or so it was clear that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines far faster than the food which spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress...

I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good ****, but in this case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagonal wire cutters is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a ****. I went to the normal stall.

In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under the circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical proportions.

I began "The Move."

For those women who may be reading this, let me take a moment to explain "The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to position ones ass toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of **** at the exact same second that ones ass is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that the choad is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet dancer.

I was about half-way into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards attending kids night; it was mounded up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall. Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up for a rematch. What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can.

In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from the goings-on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crotched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precedence over **** no matter what is about to come slamming out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary thing since ****ting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus diverted.

At that very split second, my ass exploded in what can only be described as a wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of "30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of **** the consistency of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ass. But remember, I was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The **** wave was of such force and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat that it ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall at an angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initially hit the toilet seat. Then I sat down.

Recall that when that event occurred, I was already half-way to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no return. I have always considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may be. Needless to say, the **** wave, though of considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the walls, like what you would see when hitting a puddle with a high-pressure water hose; even though you throw water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to re-form a puddle. There was a significant amount of **** remaining on about one-third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon.

Now, back to the vomit...

While all the ****ting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I had just consumed. OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting? One bends over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly-opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles.

In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were deposited in my pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet.

In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in **** that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a height of about five feet, and still had enough force to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid ****. All while thick **** was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat.

And there was no ****ing toilet paper.

What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was OK since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the manager. And told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask my wife to come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left. At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my pants or something similarly benign.

About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom not knowing what was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in her voice. I explained to her (still laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help. Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she probably assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just needed to bring the car around so we could bolt immediately. Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was about to go across the street and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage around the elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers. And she then started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began to ask for an explanation as to what had happened when I promised her that I would tell her later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time being. She left.

The manager then came back in with a half-dozen wet towels and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned. Without giving him specific details, I explained that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks working at Ryan's making minimum wage of just slightly above. At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the situation. Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose.

Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom. He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels. Just as I was finishing, my wife got back with the new clothes and passed them into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store, handing the bag to my wife. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad taste to go out of the stall to get redressed in the event I happened to be standing there naked and some little bastard kid walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet committed a felony and intended to keep it that way.

When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my wife was now waiting to pick me up by the front door.

The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten.

 

[m wisdom]

Spiders on drugs

Spiders on drugs

http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=8efcc0f08d&o=1

 

[graceanne]

From the Associated Press:


Apple Computer reported today that it has developed computer chips that can
store and play music inside women's breasts.

This is considered to be a major breakthrough because women are always complaining

about men staring at their breasts and not listening to them.

 

[graceanne]

A man and woman had been married for more than 60 years.
They had shared everything. They had talked about everything.
They had kept no secrets from each other except that the little old woman had a shoe-box in the top of her closet that she had cautioned her husband never to open or ask her about. For all of these years, he had never thought about the box, but one day the little old woman got very sick and the doctor said she would not recover. In trying to sort out their affairs, the little old man took down the shoe-box and took it to his wife's bedside.
She agreed that it was time that he should know what was in the box.
When he opened it, he found two crocheted dolls and a stack of money totaling $95,000. He asked her about the contents.
When we were to be married," she said, "my grandmother told me the secret of a happy marriage was to never argue. She told me that if I ever got angry with you, I should just keep quiet and crochet a doll."
The little old man was so moved; he had to fight back tears.
Only two precious dolls were in the box. She had only been angry with him two times in all those years of living and loving. He almost burst with happiness.
Honey," he said, "that explains the doll, but what about all of this money? Where did it come from?"
"Oh," she said, "That's the money I made from selling the dolls."



A PRAYER



Dear Lord,

I pray for Wisdom to understand my man; Love to forgive him; And
Patience for his moods; Because Lord, if I pray for strength, I'll
beat him to death. And I don't know how to crochet.

 

[graceanne]

It has been known for many years that sex was good exercise, but until now nobody had made a scientific study of the caloric content of different sexual activities. Now after "original and proprietary" research they are proud to present the results.

REMOVING HER CLOTHES:

With her consent........................12 Calories

Without her consent..................2,187 Calories

OPENING HER BRA:

With both hands..........................8 Calories

With one hand...........................12 Calories

With your teeth.......................485 Calories

PUTTING ON A CONDOM:

With an erection........................6 Calories

Without an erection...........3,315 Calories

POSITIONS:

Missionary..................................12 Calories

69 lying down............................78 Calories

69 standing up.........................812 Calories

Wheelbarrow...........................216 Calories

Doggy Style.............................326 Calories

Italian chandelier................2,912 Calories

ORGASMS:

Real.....................................112 Calories

Fake.................................1,315 Calories

POST ORGASM:

Lying in bed hugging.........................................................18 Calories

Getting up immediately...................................................36 Calories

Explaining why you got out of bed immediately......816 Calories

GETTING A SECOND ERECTION: If you are:

20-29 years..........................36 Calories

30-39 years..........................80 Calories

40-49 years........................124 Calories

50-59 years....................1,972 Calories

60-69 years....................7,916 Calories

70 and over............................... a miracle

DRESSING AFTERWARDS:

Calmly.......................................................................32 Calories

In a hurry.................................................................98 Calories

With her father knocking at the door...........5,218 Calories

With your wife knocking at the door..........13,521 Calories

 

[graceanne]

I was riding to work yesterday when I observed a female driver, who cut right in front of a pickup truck, causing the driver to drive onto the shoulder to avoid hitting her.

This evidently angered the driver enough that he hung his arm out is window and gave the woman the finger. " Man, that guy is stupid," I thought to myself. I ALWAYS smile nicely and wave in a sheepish manner whenever a female does anything to me in traffic, and here's why:

I drive 48 miles each way every day to work.

That's 96 miles each day.

Of these, 16 miles each way is bumper-to-bumper.

Most of the bumper-to-bumper is on an 8 lane highway.

There are 7 cars every 40 feet for 32 miles.

That works out to 982 cars every mile, or 31,424 cars.

Even though the rest of the 32 miles is not bumper-to-bumper, I figure I pass at least another 4000 cars.

That brings the number to something like 36,000 cars that I pass every day.

Statistically, females drive half of these.

That's 18,000 women drivers!

In any given group of females, 1 in 28 has PMS.

That's 642.

According to Cosmopolitan, 70% describe their love life as dissatisfying or unrewarding.

That's 449.

According to the National Institute of Health, 22% of all females have seriously considered suicide or homicide.

That's 98.

And 34% describe men as their biggest problem.

That's 33.

According to the National Rifle Association, 5% of all females carry weapons and this number is increasing.

That means that EVERY SINGLE DAY, I drive past at least one female that has a lousy love life, thinks men are her biggest problem, has seriously considered suicide or homicide, has PMS, and is armed.

Give her the finger? I don't think so.

 

[graceanne]

Redneck Man's pick up lines

1) Did you fart?
Cuz you blew me away.

2) Are yer parents retarded?
Cuz ya sure are special.

3) My Love fer you is like diarrhea .
I can't hold it in.

4) Do you have a library card?
Cuz I'd like to sign you out.

5) Is there a mirror in yer pants?
Cuz I can see myself in em.

6) If you was a tree I were a Squirrel, I'd store my nuts in yer
hole.

7) You might not be the best lookin girl here, but beauty's only a Light switch away.

8) Man - "Fat Penguin!"
Woman - "WHAT?"
Man - "I just wanted to say something that would break the ice."

9) I know I'm not no Fred Flintstone,
But I bet I can make yer bed-rock.

10) I can't find my puppy, can you help me find him?
I think he went inta this cheap motel room.

11) Yer eyes are as blue as window cleaner.

12) If yer gunna regret this in the mornin, we kin sleep til
afternoon.

And.... the best for last!

13) Yer face reminds me of a wrench,
Every time I think of it my nuts tighten up.

 

[graceanne]

When do cows go to sleep? When it's pasture bedtime.
*

Having three kids is like living in a frat house -- a lot of late nights and throwing up.
-- Ray Romano

*

When we agreed to help our sergeant move to a new apartment, we didn't know the elevator wasn't working. So after hours of carrying heavy boxes and furniture up 11 floors, we were wiped out. And when the sergeant asked us to search for his favorite pot, no one moved.
"I'll give a bottle of Scotch to whoever finds it," he shouted. Within minutes, a private found the pot.
"Good," said the sarge. "Now look for the Scotch."

 

[graceanne]

Last month, National University of Lesotho scientists released the results of a recent analysis that revealed the presence of female hormones in beer.

Men should take a concerned look at their beer consumption. The
theory is that beer contains female hormones (hops contain phytoestrogens) and that by drinking enough beer, men turn into women.

To test the theory,100 men drank 8 pints of beer each within a one hour period. It was then observed that 100% of the test subjects:

1) argued over nothing
2) refused to apologize when obviously wrong
3) gained weight
4) talked excessively without making sense
5) became overly emotional
6) couldn't drive
7) failed to think rationally
8) had to sit down while urinating

No further testing was considered necessary.
Send this to the men you know to warn them about drinking too much beer!

 

[shy slave]

Membership Has Its Price.....................


A man joins a very exclusive nudist colony. On his first day there he takes off his clothes and starts to wander around. A gorgeous petite blonde walks by and the man immediately gets an erection.


The woman notices his erection, comes over to him and says,


"Did you call for me?"


The man replies, No, what do you mean?" She says, "You must be new here. Let me explain :
" It's a rule here that if you get an erection, it implies you called for me." Smiling, she leads him to the side of the swimming pool, lies down on a towel, eagerly pulls him to her and happily lets him have his way with her.


Later, the man continues to explore the colony's facilities. He enters the sauna and as he sits down, he farts.


Within minutes a huge, hairy man lumbers out of the steam room toward him, "Did you call for me?" says the hairy man.


"No, what do you mean?" asks the newcomer.



"It's a rule that if you fart, it implies that you called for me." The huge man easily spins him around, bends him over a bench and has his way with him.


The newcomer staggers back to the colony office where he is greeted by the smiling, naked receptionist. "May I help you?" she asks.


The man yells, "Here's my membership card. You can have the key back and you can keep the $500 membership fee."


"But, Sir," she replies, "you've only been here for a few hours.


You haven't had the chance to see all our facilities."


The man replies, "Listen lady, I'm 55 years old. I only get an erection once a month. I fart 15 times a day.


I'm outta here.

 

[graceanne]

A Florida senior citizen drove his brand new Corvette convertible out of the dealership. Taking off down the road, he floored it to 80 mph, enjoying the wind blowing through what little hair he had left.

"Amazing," he thought as he flew down I-75, pushing the pedal even more. Looking in his rear view mirror, he saw the highway patrol behind him, blue lights flashing and siren blaring.

He floored it to 100 mph, then 110, then 120. Suddenly he thought, "What am I doing? I'm too old for this," and pulled over to await the Trooper's arrival.

Pulling in behind him, the Trooper walked up to the Corvette, looked at his watch and said , "Sir, my shift ends in 30 minutes. Today is Friday. If you can give me a reason for speeding that I've never heard before, I'll let you go." The old gentleman paused. Then said, "Years ago, my wife ran off with a Florida State Trooper. I thought you were bringing her back."

"Have a good day, Sir," replied the Trooper.

 

[tealsphynx]

A Florida senior citizen drove his brand new Corvette convertible out of the dealership. Taking off down the road, he floored it to 80 mph, enjoying the wind blowing through what little hair he had left.

"Amazing," he thought as he flew down I-75, pushing the pedal even more. Looking in his rear view mirror, he saw the highway patrol behind him, blue lights flashing and siren blaring.

He floored it to 100 mph, then 110, then 120. Suddenly he thought, "What am I doing? I'm too old for this," and pulled over to await the Trooper's arrival.

Pulling in behind him, the Trooper walked up to the Corvette, looked at his watch and said , "Sir, my shift ends in 30 minutes. Today is Friday. If you can give me a reason for speeding that I've never heard before, I'll let you go." The old gentleman paused. Then said, "Years ago, my wife ran off with a Florida State Trooper. I thought you were bringing her back."

"Have a good day, Sir," replied the Trooper.

<snicker>

 

[graceanne]

A Child's Understanding

A mom was concerned about her kindergarten son walking to school. He didn't want his mother to walk with him. Wanting to give him the feeling that he had some independence and know that he was safe, she asked a neighbor lady if she would please follow him to school in the mornings, staying at a distance, so he probably wouldn't notice her.

The lady said that since she was up early with her toddler anyway, it would be a good way for them to get some exercise as well, so she agreed.

The next school day the neighbor lady and her little girl set out following behind Timmy as he walked to school with another neighbor boy he knew. She did this for the whole week.

As the boys walked and chatted, kicking stones and twigs, Timmy's little friend noticed the same lady was following them as she seemed to do every day all week. Finally he said to Timmy, "Have you noticed that lady following us to school all week? Do you know her?"

Jimmy nonchalantly replied, "Yeah, I know who she is".

The friend said, "Well, who is she"?

"That's just Shirley Goodnest", Timmy replied, "and her daughter Marcy".

"Shirley Goodnest? Who the heck is she and why is she following us"?

"Well", Timmy explained, "every night my Mom makes me say the 23rd Psalm with my prayers, 'cuz she worries about me so much. And in the Psalm, it says, 'Shirley Goodnest and Marcy shall follow me all the days of my life', so I guess I'll just have to get used to it!"

May Shirley Goodnest and Marcy be with you today and always as well!

 

[graceanne]

Things I've learned from my Boys (honest and not kidding):

1. A king size waterbed holds enough water to fill a 2000 sq. ft. house 4 inches deep.

2. If you spray hair spray on dust bunnies and run over them with roller blades, they can ignite.

3. A 3-year old Boy's voice is louder than 200 adults in a crowded restaurant.

4. If you hook a dog leash over a ceiling fan, the motor is not strong enough to rotate a 42 pound Boy wearing Batman underwear and a Superman cape. It is strong enough, however, if tied to a paint can, to spread paint on all four walls of a 20 x 20 ft. room.

5. You should not throw baseballs up when the ceiling fan is on. When using a ceiling fan as a bat, you have to throw the ball up a few times before you get a hit. A ceiling fan can hit a baseball a long way.

6. The glass in windows (even double-pane) doesn't stop a baseball hit by a ceiling fan.

7. When you hear the toilet flush and the words "uh oh", it's already too late.

8. Brake fluid mixed with Clorox makes smoke, and lots of it.

9. A six-year old boy CAN start a fire with a flint rock even though a 36-year old man says they can only do it in the movies.

10. Certain Lego's will pass through the digestive tract of a 4-year old Boy.

11. Play dough and microwave should not be used in the same sentence.

12. Super glue IS forever.

13. No matter how much Jell-O you put in a swimming pool you still can't walk on water.

14. Pool filters do not like Jell-O.

15. VCR's do not eject "PB &J" sandwiches even though TV commercials show they do.

16. Garbage bags do not make good parachutes.

17. Marbles in gas tanks make lots of noise when driving.

18. You probably DO NOT want to know what that odor is.

19. Always look in the oven before you turn it on; plastic toys do not like ovens.

20. The fire department in Austin, TX has a 5-minute response time.

21. The spin cycle on the washing machine does not make earthworms dizzy.

22. It will, however, make cats dizzy.

23. Cats throw up twice their body weight when dizzy. sick.gif

24. 80% of Men who read this will try mixing the Clorox and brake fluid.

 

[graceanne]

DEEP THOUGHTS BY MEN WHILE FISHING



Two guys from Daniels County are sitting quietly in a boat at Fort Peck , Montana , fishing and drinking beer.



Almost silently, so as not to scare the fish, Mel says, "I think I'm going to divorce my wife - she hasn't spoken to me in over 2 months."



Earl continues slowly sipping his beer, then thoughtfully says, "You better think it over - women like that are hard to find."