Unfortunately, as I have gotten older, I have become a little less
sensitive.
So, after trying my new job as a Wal-Mart greeter, last weekend (a good
find for many retirees), I lasted less than a day……
About two hours into my first day on the job a very loud, coyote ugly,
nasty woman walked into the store with her two kids,
yelling obscenities at them all the way through the entrance.
As I had been instructed, I said pleasantly, ‘Good morning, and welcome to
Wal-Mart. Nice children you have there. Are they twins?’
The ugly, nasty woman stopped yelling long enough to say, ‘Hell no,
they ain’t twins. The oldest one’s 9, and the other one’s 7. Why the hell
would you think they’re twins? Are you blind, or just stupid?’
So I replied, ‘I’m neither blind nor stupid, Ma’am. I just find it hard
to believe you got laid twice.
Have a good day and thank you for shopping at Wal-Mart.’
My 25 year old supervisor said I probably wasn’t cut out for this line of
work…….. soooo maybe I’ll go fishing.
It was on this day in 1953 that Watson and Crick published the article in which they proposed the structure of DNA. The article appeared in Nature magazine, and it was only about a page long. It began, “We wish to suggest a structure for the salt of deoxyribose nucleic acid (D.N.A.). This structure has novel features which are of considerable biological interest.” Their hypothesis about the double-helix structure of DNA revolutionized biology and paved the way for the field of genetics. Some science historians rank their feat with Newton describing the laws of physics.
Watson and Crick’s discovery was actually the result of synthesizing many other people’s ideas and research. They spent relatively little time in the laboratory doing experiments. They relied on the research of others, especially Rosalind Franklin, who had taken X-ray photographs of DNA samples. Their initial failure to acknowledge their huge debt to her caused a great debate in the scientific world. Many people felt that she should have shared the Nobel Prize, which Watson and Crick won in 1962.
An ugly man walks into his local pub with a big grin on his face.
“What are you so happy about?” asked the barman.
“Well, I’ll tell you,” replies the ugly man. “You know, I live by
the railway. Well, on my way home last night, I noticed a young
woman tied to the tracks, like in the movies. I, of course, went
and cut her free and took her back to my place. Anyway, to make a
long story short, I scored big time!! We made love all night, all
over the house. We did everything, me on top, sometimes her on
top, every position imaginable!”
“Fantastic!” exclaimed the barman. “You lucky b@stard! Was she pretty?”
“Dunno. Never found the head!”
It’s after midnight on Saturday night… Sunday Morning. We had a long busy day. Went to World’s of Fun this afternoon then went to the Fork N Film (or something like that) for dinner and a movie. You sit in a big leather recliner and they serve you dinner as you watch a movie. We don’t have that in St. Louis (yet). I’ll write more about it when I get home.
Neck is a little better today. Today is the first day in over a week that I didn’t take pain killers early in the morning. I did take 2 during the day and evening just because I was aching. We’ll see how tomorrow goes. Sleeping in a little then going to breakfast and then heading home. Looks like you guys are pretty much behaving yourselves… and I didn’t even leave a sitter with you. Good kids!
All in all, it hadn’t been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I’d last taken a dump. I’d tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to go Christmas shopping. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, “Everything Must Go!” This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 1 through 5 for your convenience:
1.Occupied.
2.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it’s next to the occupied one.
3.Poo on seat.
4.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.
5.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of
toilet.
Clearly, it had to be Stall #2. I trudged back, entered, dropped trousers and
sat down. I’m normally a fairly Shameful Sh1tter. I wasn’t happy about being
next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.
I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. Sh1tter was blathering to Mrs. Sh1tter about the sh1tty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn’t get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.
Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude – a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.
Once my *** cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent:
(1) The next-door conversation had ceased
(2) my colon’s continued seizing indicated that there was more to come
(3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench. It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial “herald” fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.
“Oh my God,” I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of choking, and then, “No, baby, that wasn’t me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??”
Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I’d see that liquid poop had actually managed to ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.
Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal symphony: “Gotta go… horrible… throw up…in my mouth… not… make it… tell the kids… love them… oh God…” followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.
Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one’s phone and wipe one’s bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.
There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who’d be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.
As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.
I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it’ll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public — and I doubt he’ll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.
Infidel, you just run all your sentences together without putting spaces in and Jonco was trying to help you out. It’s kind of like Wheel of Fortune, where you buy a vowel but here Jonco’s buying you some spaces. Eq. howareyoudoing,infi OR how are you doing, infi. See. The space bar is at the bottom.
dj gtreat story with a lot of details the conversation always turns to shit readers digest condensed version is i had the squirts at the mall on christmas eve
Yeah…over in Akron, robbing pizza delivery guys is the second highest employer, right between running carloads of crack cocaine along the Turnpike and cow-tipping.
Is that you? We need a button to click for Help Bail Out Klaw.
I’ve kept up with bits & pieces for a while now and thought I would finally contribute. Just yesterday I launched my own blog/site/whatever and I thought it’d be something readers here might enjoy: focusless dot com . It’s like bits & pieces except instead of scouring the web it scours my brain. 😀
Guy walks into a bar with gunny sack over his shoulder, walks over to the bar piano, opens the sack, pulls out a tiny tiny little man and stands him on the piano bench. The tiny little man begins to just whale away on the piano… doing an incredible job. Playing Beethoven, Bach, all the classics, playing them better than you’ve ever heard. The guy walks over to the bar and orders a drink. The bartender says, “Wow, that is incredible. Where’d you find him?” The guy opens the gunny sack and pulls out an old dusty lantern and says “I made a wish and rubbed on this and he appeared.” Bar tender says, “May I try?” to which the guy say “Sure.” So the bartender closes his eyes and rubs the lamp and BOOM, all of the sudden ducks appear EVERYWHERE. Ducks on the floor, ducks on the bar, ducks in the rafters – ducks flooding out of the front door. The bartender says, “I wished for a million bucks, not a million ducks!” To which the guy replies, “Do you really think I wished for a twelve inch pianist?”
Back in the 1930’s, during the great depression, with no jobs in this area and not much hope of one. My grandpa and his friend Ed heard of work in the coal mines in Tennessee. They talked it over and decided that they would give it a try. They left a couple days later and upon arriving early the next morning in the small mining town, went to the mining company offices and were hired right away. To their surprise they were split up, grandpa heading down one tunnel and Ed going down another.
These two outdoors types had never fully considered what it would be like going deep underground to mine coal. Their shifts over they emerged within 15 minutes of each other, coal black and shaky from the ordeal. Ed asked grandpa “Tim, how bout you, where’d you go?” Grandpa quickly replied “To hell and back bigod.”
After a brief consultation the two collected their one days pay, found a creek where they washed off the coal dust as best they could and immediately headed back to Georgia. Grandpa liked to say “I worked my first day and my last day as a miner on the same day.”
Writing this story down made me smile almost as much as hearing grandpa tell it, even if he did relate it to me at least 30 times.
A chicken and an egg are lying in bed. The chicken is leaning against the headboard smoking a cigarette, with a satisfied smile on its face. The egg, looking a bit pissed off, grabs the sheet, rolls over, and says, “Well, I guess we finally answered THAT question.”
hey it is good Bella 😉
and has my vote for best joke that night
new to the free mike thing but cool
will look for it next Friday .. know Jono extendeded it a day cause he is in (pain)
A lady takes her car to the mechanic. The mechanic checks the the car and tells the lady “It looks like you blew a seal.” The lady answers back wiping her mouth, “No, that’s just a little mayonnaise from lunch!”
A baby seal was crawling around the rocky shores out in the open. A Greenpeace person ran over to it and said, “Don’t you know there are evil men out here to kill you and take your skin? Why are you out here in the open?”
The seal says: “Beats me!”
OK, it’s your turn to talk about whatever you like. 
No jokes from this little black duck, oh….FIRST.
Ok, KLAW. Tell us your favorite story.
I will later, right now you need to cheer Infidel up. I can’t believe he was hitting on that guy on the runway.
http://www.crossdressers.net/
no one has a comment about the mic being backward in the photo of Ray Charles? Or is that photoshopped in that way?
Unfortunately, as I have gotten older, I have become a little less
sensitive.
So, after trying my new job as a Wal-Mart greeter, last weekend (a good
find for many retirees), I lasted less than a day……
About two hours into my first day on the job a very loud, coyote ugly,
nasty woman walked into the store with her two kids,
yelling obscenities at them all the way through the entrance.
As I had been instructed, I said pleasantly, ‘Good morning, and welcome to
Wal-Mart. Nice children you have there. Are they twins?’
The ugly, nasty woman stopped yelling long enough to say, ‘Hell no,
they ain’t twins. The oldest one’s 9, and the other one’s 7. Why the hell
would you think they’re twins? Are you blind, or just stupid?’
So I replied, ‘I’m neither blind nor stupid, Ma’am. I just find it hard
to believe you got laid twice.
Have a good day and thank you for shopping at Wal-Mart.’
My 25 year old supervisor said I probably wasn’t cut out for this line of
work…….. soooo maybe I’ll go fishing.
hay bitz go to any parades on “Anzac Day” Saturday.
that1chick that was a joke Ray did at some of his concerts to loosen up the crowd.
It was on this day in 1953 that Watson and Crick published the article in which they proposed the structure of DNA. The article appeared in Nature magazine, and it was only about a page long. It began, “We wish to suggest a structure for the salt of deoxyribose nucleic acid (D.N.A.). This structure has novel features which are of considerable biological interest.” Their hypothesis about the double-helix structure of DNA revolutionized biology and paved the way for the field of genetics. Some science historians rank their feat with Newton describing the laws of physics.
Watson and Crick’s discovery was actually the result of synthesizing many other people’s ideas and research. They spent relatively little time in the laboratory doing experiments. They relied on the research of others, especially Rosalind Franklin, who had taken X-ray photographs of DNA samples. Their initial failure to acknowledge their huge debt to her caused a great debate in the scientific world. Many people felt that she should have shared the Nobel Prize, which Watson and Crick won in 1962.
Mike we need more like you in this world. keep telling it like you see it.
˙ıɟuı `uʍop oƃ noʎ ǝɹoɟǝq dn ʞool
LOL, I hope the young man learned a valuable lesson.
No head for this guy.
An ugly man walks into his local pub with a big grin on his face.
“What are you so happy about?” asked the barman.
“Well, I’ll tell you,” replies the ugly man. “You know, I live by
the railway. Well, on my way home last night, I noticed a young
woman tied to the tracks, like in the movies. I, of course, went
and cut her free and took her back to my place. Anyway, to make a
long story short, I scored big time!! We made love all night, all
over the house. We did everything, me on top, sometimes her on
top, every position imaginable!”
“Fantastic!” exclaimed the barman. “You lucky b@stard! Was she pretty?”
“Dunno. Never found the head!”
KLAW – What are you talking about? What runway and what young man?
Bella- No, you didn’t tell that one!!!
I’m bad, I know. I thought it was funny. Never again.
OK since Jonco posted it I thought it was a girl,give me a little break,Bella you got it right check for the pu**Y first
Infi, you aren’t using the spaces that Jonco gave you for free????
, , , . . . ” ” !!: { } + ??
All free.
Jonco
April 23rd, 2009 at 5:33 am
Infidel, Here are a few spaces ” “, ” “, ” “, ” “. Feel free to use them every now and then. If you need more I can provide them. 🙂
Just helping Jonco out as he’s busy and not feeling good. Hope you’re having fun though. 🙂
It’s after midnight on Saturday night… Sunday Morning. We had a long busy day. Went to World’s of Fun this afternoon then went to the Fork N Film (or something like that) for dinner and a movie. You sit in a big leather recliner and they serve you dinner as you watch a movie. We don’t have that in St. Louis (yet). I’ll write more about it when I get home.
Neck is a little better today. Today is the first day in over a week that I didn’t take pain killers early in the morning. I did take 2 during the day and evening just because I was aching. We’ll see how tomorrow goes. Sleeping in a little then going to breakfast and then heading home. Looks like you guys are pretty much behaving yourselves… and I didn’t even leave a sitter with you. Good kids!
All in all, it hadn’t been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I’d last taken a dump. I’d tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to go Christmas shopping. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, “Everything Must Go!” This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 1 through 5 for your convenience:
1.Occupied.
2.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it’s next to the occupied one.
3.Poo on seat.
4.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.
5.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of
toilet.
Clearly, it had to be Stall #2. I trudged back, entered, dropped trousers and
sat down. I’m normally a fairly Shameful Sh1tter. I wasn’t happy about being
next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.
I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. Sh1tter was blathering to Mrs. Sh1tter about the sh1tty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn’t get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.
Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude – a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.
Once my *** cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent:
(1) The next-door conversation had ceased
(2) my colon’s continued seizing indicated that there was more to come
(3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench. It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial “herald” fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.
“Oh my God,” I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of choking, and then, “No, baby, that wasn’t me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??”
Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I’d see that liquid poop had actually managed to ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.
Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal symphony: “Gotta go… horrible… throw up…in my mouth… not… make it… tell the kids… love them… oh God…” followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.
Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one’s phone and wipe one’s bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.
There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who’d be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.
As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.
I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it’ll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public — and I doubt he’ll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.
AHHHHH I dont know what that means please explain Bella,Im blonde remember,is it my fuc*ing computer
ROTFLMAO DJ. Never laughed so hard over someone’s sh!tty story. Excellent!!!
Infidel, you just run all your sentences together without putting spaces in and Jonco was trying to help you out. It’s kind of like Wheel of Fortune, where you buy a vowel but here Jonco’s buying you some spaces. Eq. howareyoudoing,infi OR how are you doing, infi. See. The space bar is at the bottom.
Jonco getting a bit lazy or maybe on a drinking binge?? first open mic friday night, now open mic saturday? hmmmmm LOL
dj gtreat story with a lot of details the conversation always turns to shit readers digest condensed version is i had the squirts at the mall on christmas eve
Infidelrelaxandtryit
If the space bar had hair on it, WIHI?
LOL @ KLAW. It’s not a big deal, he gives me heck all the time.
SK – Jonco explained it all on Thursday. hmmmmm LOL
DJ, my comment about your story is undergoing some severe moderation.
Klaw – I understand…lot of paperwork. Butt does it involve Totos?
Yes and no, dunno.
ever see this?
http://www.stltoday.com/stltoday/news/stories.nsf/laworder/story/1810ECAB95B9D8408625759F000D6D86?OpenDocument#tp_newCommentAnchor
Yeah…over in Akron, robbing pizza delivery guys is the second highest employer, right between running carloads of crack cocaine along the Turnpike and cow-tipping.
Is that you? We need a button to click for Help Bail Out Klaw.
Why is my mug shot always in black and white?
Speaking of HOT ladies…have you seen this?….
http://www.clarionledger.com/article/20090423/NEWS/90423023/-1/frontpage
Thanks for that, it will come in handy afterwhile, I need to mow/cut the grass, later.
I’ve kept up with bits & pieces for a while now and thought I would finally contribute. Just yesterday I launched my own blog/site/whatever and I thought it’d be something readers here might enjoy: focusless dot com . It’s like bits & pieces except instead of scouring the web it scours my brain. 😀
Guy walks into a bar with gunny sack over his shoulder, walks over to the bar piano, opens the sack, pulls out a tiny tiny little man and stands him on the piano bench. The tiny little man begins to just whale away on the piano… doing an incredible job. Playing Beethoven, Bach, all the classics, playing them better than you’ve ever heard. The guy walks over to the bar and orders a drink. The bartender says, “Wow, that is incredible. Where’d you find him?” The guy opens the gunny sack and pulls out an old dusty lantern and says “I made a wish and rubbed on this and he appeared.” Bar tender says, “May I try?” to which the guy say “Sure.” So the bartender closes his eyes and rubs the lamp and BOOM, all of the sudden ducks appear EVERYWHERE. Ducks on the floor, ducks on the bar, ducks in the rafters – ducks flooding out of the front door. The bartender says, “I wished for a million bucks, not a million ducks!” To which the guy replies, “Do you really think I wished for a twelve inch pianist?”
Back in the 1930’s, during the great depression, with no jobs in this area and not much hope of one. My grandpa and his friend Ed heard of work in the coal mines in Tennessee. They talked it over and decided that they would give it a try. They left a couple days later and upon arriving early the next morning in the small mining town, went to the mining company offices and were hired right away. To their surprise they were split up, grandpa heading down one tunnel and Ed going down another.
These two outdoors types had never fully considered what it would be like going deep underground to mine coal. Their shifts over they emerged within 15 minutes of each other, coal black and shaky from the ordeal. Ed asked grandpa “Tim, how bout you, where’d you go?” Grandpa quickly replied “To hell and back bigod.”
After a brief consultation the two collected their one days pay, found a creek where they washed off the coal dust as best they could and immediately headed back to Georgia. Grandpa liked to say “I worked my first day and my last day as a miner on the same day.”
Writing this story down made me smile almost as much as hearing grandpa tell it, even if he did relate it to me at least 30 times.
R.I.P grandpa
Thanks ALN for letting me know that. I feel pretty dumb now, but thanks for the answer.
crap was looking for the Chicken egg joke to cut and paste .. all I see is Saturday jokes 🙂
found it :
Terry
April 24th, 2009 at 8:06 pm
Possibly the best chicken joke ever…
A chicken and an egg are lying in bed. The chicken is leaning against the headboard smoking a cigarette, with a satisfied smile on its face. The egg, looking a bit pissed off, grabs the sheet, rolls over, and says, “Well, I guess we finally answered THAT question.”
That’s nice, Gary. Fond memories!
LOL @ Andyman.
so a baby seal walks into a club…
hey it is good Bella 😉
and has my vote for best joke that night
new to the free mike thing but cool
will look for it next Friday .. know Jono extendeded it a day cause he is in (pain)
invaderpenguin
April 25th, 2009 at 5:31 pm
so a baby seal walks into a club…
.. and was pelted
by
A lady takes her car to the mechanic. The mechanic checks the the car and tells the lady “It looks like you blew a seal.” The lady answers back wiping her mouth, “No, that’s just a little mayonnaise from lunch!”
A baby seal was crawling around the rocky shores out in the open. A Greenpeace person ran over to it and said, “Don’t you know there are evil men out here to kill you and take your skin? Why are you out here in the open?”
The seal says: “Beats me!”