Jokes

Those pesky nuns and their wanton ways

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An old drunk is on his way into a bar when a nun standing outside the bar suddenly speaks to him. “Your drinking is the easy road to evil and damnation. Drink will pollute your body and soul. Give up the foul spirits and live a better life!”.

The drunk looks at her and asks “How do you know that drinking is so bad for you?”.

The nun looks puzzled and shrugs. The drunk says “Have you ever even tried a drink?”. The nun admits she hasn’t, so the drunk tells her “Listen, I’ll go into the bar and order myself a drink and I’ll get one for you too. I’ll bring it out here and you can taste it yourself and see that alcohol is nothing bad.”

The nun reluctantly agrees, but says, “I don’t want anybody out here getting the wrong idea about me, so would you mind bringing me the drink in a paper cup?”. The drunk agrees to this and goes inside. At the bar, he tells the bartender “Give me a double shot of whiskey, and a second half shot in a paper cup.”

The bartender groans and says: “Is that nun out there again?”

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Some random jokes and thoughts around Facebook

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~ A businessman in the first class cabin decided to chat up the drop dead, gorgeous flight attendant: “What is your name?”

Flight Attendant: “Angela Benz, sir”

Businessman: “Lovely name …any relation to Mercedes Benz?”

Flight Attendant: “Yes sir, very close”

Businessman: “How close?”

Flight Attendant: “Same price”.

~ I was singing “Lady Marmalade” to myself at Starbucks and accidentally placed an order

~ Bologna is just Hot Dog Pancake

~ Religions of the world:

Taoism: Shit happens

Hinduism: This Shit happened before

Buddhism: When Shit happens, is it really shit?

Protestantism: Shit won’t happen if I work harder

Catholicism: Shit happens; I deserve it

Jehovah’s Witness: Knock Knock, “Shit Happens”

Judaism: Why does Shit always happen to me?

Atheism: No Shit

TV Evangelist: Send More Shit

Rastafarianism: Let’s smoke this Shit

~ Just because you eat the burger, doesn’t mean you want to meet the cow

~ Macanudo…Jamaican for cigar. Cigar…Jamaican for “another place to put weed.”

~ if you sing James Brown songs, dogs will not attack you

He cannot tell a lie, and he didn’t lie

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A lawyer, who had a wife and 12 children, needed to move because his rental agreement

was terminated by the owner who wanted to reoccupy the home. But he was having a lot of difficulty finding a new house. When he said, he had 12 children, no one would rent a home to him because they felt that the children would destroy the place.

He couldn’t say he had no children because he couldn’t lie. Now we all know lawyers cannot, and do not lie… So, he sent his wife for a walk to the cemetery with 11 of their kids.

He took the remaining one with him to see rental homes with the real estate agent. He loved one of the homes and the price was right — the agent asked: “How many children do you have?

He answered: “Twelve.”

The agent asked, “Where are the others?”

The lawyer, with his best courtroom sad look, answered, “Well, they’re in the cemetery with their mother.”

MORAL: It’s not necessary to lie, one only has to choose the right words… and don’t forget, most politicians are unfortunately lawyers.

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The Butcher and the Dog

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A butcher was shooing a dog from his shop, when he saw a £10, and a note, in the dog’s mouth, reading: Eight lamb chops, please.”

Amazed, he took the money, put a bag of chops into the dog’s mouth, and quickly closed the shop.

He followed the dog and watched him wait for a green light, the dog then looked both ways before trotting across the road to a bus-stop.

The dog then checked the bus timetable whilst sitting on the bench.

When a bus arrived, he walked around to the front and looked up at the number, then boarded the bus.

The butcher followed, totally dumbstruck! As the bus travelled out into the suburbs, the dog looked out of the window to take in the scenery.

After a while he stood on his back paws to push the “stop” bell, and then the butcher followed him off.

The dog went up to a house and dropped his bag on the step barking repeatedly.

No answer.

He went back down the path, took a big run, and threw himself -whap!- against the door.

He did this time and time again.

Still, no answer.

He then jumped on a wall, walked around the garden, barked repeatedly at a window, jumped off, and waited at the front door. Eventually, a very small guy opened it and started cursing and shouting at the dog.

The butcher ran up screaming at the guy: “What the hell are you doing? That dog’s a genius!”

The owner responds, “Genius? Genius my arse. That’s the second time this week he’s forgotten his bloody keys!”

Thanks, Lee!

a prayer request and a concerned wife

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The pastor asked if anyone in the congregation would like to express praise for answered prayers. A lady stood and walked to the podium. She said, “I have a praise.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kisselman?” the pastor prompted.

“Two months ago,” she began in a firm, clear voice as she turned to the packed house, “my husband, Jim, had a terrible bicycle wreck and his scrotum was completely crushed. The pain was excruciating and the doctors didn’t know if they could help him.”

You could hear an audible gasp from the men in the congregation as they imagined the pain that poor Jim experienced.

She continued, “Jim was unable to hold me or the children and every move caused him terrible pain. We prayed as the doctors performed a delicate operation. They were able to piece together the crushed remnants of Jim’s scrotum and wrap wire around it to hold it in place.”

Again, the men in the congregation squirmed uncomfortably as they imagined the horrible surgery performed on Jim.

She went on, “Now, Jim is out of the hospital and, the doctors say, with time, his scrotum should recover completely.”

The lady made a slight bow of thanks and headed back for her pew as all the men sighed with relief. The pastor rose and tentatively asked if anyone else had anything to say.

A man rose and walked to the podium. He said, “I’m Jim. I just wanted to tell my wife, once again, that the word is sternum!

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yes, deej – this indeed DID fit:

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We have the standard 6 ft. Fence in the backyard, and a few months Ago, I heard about burglaries increasing dramatically in the entire City. To make sure this never happened to me, I got an electric Fence and ran a single wire along the top of the fence. Actually, I got the biggest cattle charger Tractor Supply had, made For 26 miles of fence. I then used an 8 ft. Long ground rod, and Drove it 7.5 feet into the ground.

The ground rod is the key, with The more you have in the ground, the better the fence works. One day I’m mowing the back yard with my cheapo Wal-Mart 6 hp big Wheel push mower. The hot wire is broken and laying out in the Yard. I knew for a fact that I unplugged the charger. I pushed the Mower around the wire and reached down to grab it, to throw it out of The way. It seems as though I hadn’t remembered to unplug it after all. Now I’m standing there, I’ve got the running lawnmower in my right Hand and the 1.7 giga-volt fence wire in the other hand.

Keep in Mind the charger is about the size of a marine battery and has a Picture of an upside down cow on fire on the cover. Time stood still. The first thing I notice is my pecker trying to climb up the front Side of my body. My ears curled downwards and I could feel the Lawnmower ignition firing in the backside of my brain. Every time That Briggs & Stratton rolled over, I could feel the spark in my Head. I was literally one with the engine. It seems as though the fence charger and the piece of shit lawnmower Were fighting over who would control my electrical impulses.

Science says you cannot crap, pee, and vomit at the same time. I beg To differ. Not only did I do all three at once, but my bowels Emptied 3 different times in less than half of a second. It was a Matrix kind of bowel movement, where time is creeping along and You’re all leaned back and BAM BAM BAM you just crap your pants 3 Times. It seemed like there were minutes in between but in reality It was so close together it was like exhaust pulses from a big block Chevy turning 8 grand. At this point I’m about 30 minutes (maybe 2 seconds) into holding Onto the fence wire. My hand is wrapped around the wire palm down so I can’t let go.

I grew up on a farm so I know all about electric Fences … But Dad always had those piece of shit chargers made by International or whoever that were like 9 volts and just kinda tickled. This one I could not let go of. The 8 foot long ground rod is now Accepting signals from me through the permadamp Ark-La-Tex river Bottom soil. At this point I’m thinking I’m going to have to just Man up and take it, until the lawnmower runs out of gas. ‘Damn!,’ I think, as I remember I just filled the tank! Now the lawnmower is starting to run rough. It has settled into a Loping run pattern as if it had some kind of big lawnmower race cam In it. Covered in poop, pee, and with my vomit on my chest I think ‘Oh God please die … Pleeeeaze die’. But nooooo, it settles into The rough lumpy cam idle nicely and remains there, like a big bore Roller cam EFI motor waiting for the go command from its owner’s Right foot.

So here I am in the middle of July, 104 degrees, 80% humidity, Standing in my own backyard, begging God to kill me. God did not Take me that day … He left me there covered in my own fluids to Writhe in the misery my own stupidity had created. I honestly don’t know how I got loose from the wire … I woke up laying on the ground hours later. The lawnmower was beside Me, out of gas. It was later on in the day and I was sunburned. There were two large dead grass spots where I had been standing, and Then another long skinny dead spot where the wire had laid while I Was on the ground still holdng on to it.

I assume I finally had a Seizure and in the resulting thrashing had somehow let go of the wire. Upon waking from my electrically induced sleep I realized a few things:

1 – Three of my teeth seem to have melted.

2 – I now have cramps in the bottoms of my feet and my right butt cheek (not the left, just the right).

3 – Poop, pee, and vomit when all mixed together, do not smell as bad as you might think.

4 – My left eye will not open.

5 – My right eye will not close.

6 – The lawnmower runs like a sumbitch now. Seriously! I think our little sesion cleared out some carbon fouling or something, because it was better than new after that.

7 – My nuts are still smaller than average yet they are almost a foot long.

8 – I can turn on the TV in the game room by farting while thinking of the number 4 (still don’t understand this???).

That day changed my life. I now have a newfound respect for things. I don’t care what type of humor you like this is funny I appreciate the little things more, and now I always triple check to make sure the fence is unplugged before I mow. The good news, is that if a burglar does try to come over the fence, I can clearly visualize what my security system will do to him, and THAT gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling all over, which also reminds me to triple check before I mow.

Thanks, DJ! (aka-Sparky)

A tale of the Baptist Cowboy

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A cowboy, who just moved to Wyoming from Texas , walks into a bar and orders three mugs of Coors.

He sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn.

When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more.

The bartender approaches and tells the

cowboy, “You know, a mug goes flat after I draw it. It would taste better if you bought one at a time.”

The cowboy replies, “Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is an Airborne Ranger, the other is a Navy Seal, both serving overseas somewhere.

When we all left our home in Texas , we promised that we’d drink this way to remember the days when we drank together.

So I’m drinking one beer for each of my brothers and one for myself.”

The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there.

The cowboy becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way.

He orders three mugs and drinks them in turn.

One day, he comes in and only orders two mugs.

All the regulars take notice and fall silent.

When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, “I don’t want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your loss.” The cowboy looks quite puzzled for a moment, then a light dawns in his eyes and he laughs.

“Oh, no, everybody’s just fine,” he explains, “It’s just that my wife and I joined the Baptist Church and I had to quit drinking.

Hasn’t affected my brothers though….”

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