Llega un tipo a la peluquerÃa. Cuando le toca el turno, el Peluquero le pregunta ¿cómo le corto?
El tipo le dice: El flequillo un poco largo de este costado, la patilla izquierda corta, la derecha un poco más larga, la nuca bien rapada…
¡Hooooo, dice el peluquero, este corte es para locos!
¡¡¡Asà me lo dejastes vos la últma vez concha de tu madre!!!
There are three blondes stranded on an island. Suddenly a fairy appears and offers to grant each one of them one wish.
The first blonde asks to be intelligent. Instantly, she is turned into a brown haired woman and she swims off the island.
The next one asks to be even more intelligent than the previous one, so instantly she is turned into a black haired woman.The black haired woman builds a boat and sails off the island.
The third blonde asks to become even more intelligent than the previous two. The fairy turns her into a man, and he walks across the bridge.
What do you call two Packies jumping out of a plane?
Chocolate drops.
there was a brunette and a blond they walked into a bar. the 5:00 O clock news was on . the news said that a man was going to commite suicide. the brunette said i bet $50 that the man is going to jump. the blonde says ok!. they find out that the man did jump so when the brunette was going to collect the money she said that she couldnt take it because she saw the 3:00 news and she saw that he was going to junp. the blonde said so did i but i didnt think he would do it again.
(This article was taken from the December 1995 issue of Self magazine, written by Stephanie Dolgoff.)
SNAGs? WIPs? TODs? What do you call a man if wuss or hunk fails to cover all the subtleties of a time when everyone seems to be in therapy, scared of commitment, working through issues or just coming off a bad breakup? In the spirit of DINS (Double Income No Sex), weve compiled the essential guide to love and disfunction using acronyms to sum up the men and the mind-boggling situations that everyone has encountered while pursuing a real relationship.
SNAG
(Sensitive New Age Guy)
Searching for a sensitive guy? Be careful you dont hit a SNAG. These guys use moves theyve picked up from the _sincerely_ empathetic tupes to they , in turn, can pick up women. They walk the walk by letting you pay for dinner after yoga class, and even talk the talk – Im really concerned about how you feel – but they never really listen. Fear not; After encountering a few SNAGS, youll be able to spot the truly sensitive guy when he comes along.
WIP
(Work In Progress)
A guy with potential whom you take on knowing that youll be spoon-feeding him tips on basic social skills: If you could ask me how Im doing once in a while, that would be really great or, depending upon your standards, Honey, thats a fork. We use it to eat.
ICH
(Ill Change Him)
You have an ICH (pronounced itch) when you tend tragically toward WIPs. Best bet: Scratch the WIPs off your list and leave the ICH syndrome to someone with nothing better to do.
PG
(Probably Gay)
If hes handsome, smart, funny, unmarried and utterly uninterested in you, he gets a PG rating. Yes, its politically incorrect. No, its never 100 percent accurate. Of course, its not fair. But egos must be preserved.
TOD
(Therapy Overdose)
You know youre dating a TOD (pronounced toad) when he cant seem to stop using phrases like compulsive personality, codependency, and obsessive to justify the error of his ways or to criticize your perfectly human foibles. TODs tend to use therapy jargon to dodge responsibility, as in I recognize I have issues around monogamy, but transferring pent-up anger about your father makes me want to retreat, rather than admitting to having slept with his coworker. Again.
NIC
(Now Im Cool)
NICs are those guys who have never gotten over being considered dweebs in high school and are intent on making up for lost time by cutting a wide remantic swath through the female population. If I can date her, I must be able to get someone better, they think during the middle of your third – and final – date.
YOC
(You Ordered Coffee)
A YOC date (pronounced yuck) is one where he insists on dividing the check to the penny, according to how many fries and and cups of coffee you each consumed. He wont be sexually or emotionally generous either.
IBM
(Ideal Breeding Material)
Having just set eyes on an IBM, youre already calculating your possible genetic combinations with him and visualizing what your child would look like if he were the dad.
MOL
(My Other Line)
MOL describes the use of an actual or imagined call-waiting beep to escape a conversation. He wouldnt get off the phone, so I had to MOL him. A gross breach of telephone etiquette, but its an effective technique nonetheless.
PUP
(Pick-Up Potential)
A PUP is anyone you deep worthy of your attention. For example, you see a PUP on the stairclimber at the gym and you consider asking out for a postworkout fruit juice.
SIS
(Stud In Spandex)
A gym predator who peacocks in front of the full-length mirror, the SIS only pauses to offer to spot you when you are hoisting those arduous three-pound free weights. His interest lies in swapping sweat, not knowledge.
BOOR
(Babe Out Of Reach)
The average-looking guy who wipes the mustard off his childs shirt becomes a BOOR – instantly because hes unavailable.
John Smith was the only Protestant to move into a large Catholic neighborhood. On the first Friday of Lent, John was outside grilling a big juicy steak on his grill. Meanwhile, all of his neighbors were eating cold tuna fish for supper.This went on each Friday of Lent. On the last Friday of Lent, the neighborhood men got together and decided that something had to be done about John, he was tempting them to eat meat each Friday of Lent, and they couldnt take it
anymore. They decided to try and convert John to Catholicism.They went over and talked to him and were so happy that he decided to join all of his neighbors and become a Catholic. They took him to Church, and the
Priest sprinkled some water over him, and said, You were born a Baptist, you were raised a Baptist, and now you are a Catholic. The men were so relieved–now their biggest Lenten temptation was resolved.The next years Lenten season rolled around. The first Friday of Lent came, and just at supper time, when the neighborhood was setting down to their tuna fish dinner, came the wafting smell of steak cooking on a grill. The neighborhood men could not believe their noses!They called each other up and decided to meet over in Johns yard to see if he had forgotten it was the first Friday of Lent? The group arrived just in time to see John standing over his grill with a small pitcher of water. He was sprinkling some water over his steak on the grill, saying, You were born a cow, you were raised a cow, and now you are a fish.
This assignment was actually turned in by two of my English students:
Rebecca and Gary
English 44A
SMU
Creative Writing
Prof Miller
In-class Assignment for Wednesday
Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. One of you will then write the first paragraph of a short story. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back and forth. Remember to reread what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached.
At first, Laurie couldnt decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. A.S. Harris to Geostation 17, he said into his transgalactic communicator. Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far… But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ships cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.
He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel. Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth — when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. Why must one lose ones innocence to become a woman? she pondered wistfully.
Little did she know, but she has less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anuudrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through Congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anuudrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion which vaporized Laurie and 85 million other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table. We cant allow this! Im going to veto that treaty! Lets blowem out of the sky!
This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic, semi-literate adolescent.
Yeah? Well, youre a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium.
You total $*&.
Stupid %&#$!.
The best joke ever
I hate some things about this time of year. Not the crass commercialism and forced frivolity, but because its the season when the food police come out with their wagging fingers and annual tips on how to get through the holidays without gaining 10 pounds.
You cant pick up a magazine without finding a list of holiday eating dos and donts … eliminate second helpings, high-calorie sauces and cookies made with butter, they say. Fill up on vegetable sticks, they say.
Good grief. Is your favorite childhood memory of Christmas a carrot stick?
I didnt think so. Isnt mine, either. A carrot was something you left for Rudolph. I have my own list of tips for holiday eating. I assure you, if you follow them, youll be fat and happy. So what if you dont make it to New Years? Your pants wont fit anymore, anyway.
About those carrot sticks. Avoid them. Anyone who puts carrots on a holiday buffet table knows nothing of the Holiday spirit. In fact, if you see carrots, leave immediately. Go next door, where theyre serving rum balls.
Drink as much eggnog as you can … and quickly. Like fine single-malt scotch, its rare. In fact, its even rarer than single-malt scotch. You cant find it any other time of year but now. So drink up! Who cares that it has 10,000 calories in every sip? Its not as if youre going to turn into an eggnogaholic or something. Its a treat. Enjoy it. Have one for me. Have two. Its later than you think. Its Holiday Time!
If something comes with gravy, use it. Thats the whole point of gravy. Gravy does not stand alone. Pour it on. Make a volcano out of your mashed potatoes. Fill it with gravy. Eat the volcano. Repeat.
As for mashed potatoes, always ask if theyre made with skim milk or whole milk. If its skim, pass. Why bother? Its like buying a sports car with an automatic transmission.
Do not have a snack before going to a party in an effort to control your eating. The whole point of going to a Christmas party is to eat other peoples food for free … lots of it. Hello?
Under no circumstances should you exercise between now and New Years. You can do that in January when you have nothing else to do. This is the time for long naps, which youll need after circling the buffet table while carrying a 10-pound plate of food and that vat of eggnog.
If you come across something really good at a buffet table, like frosted Christmas cookies in the shape and size of Santa, position yourself near them and dont budge. Have as many as you can before becoming the center of attention. Theyre like a beautiful pair of shoes. You cant leave them behind. Youre not going to see them again.
Same for pies. Apple. Pumpkin. Mincemeat. Have a slice of each. Or, if you dont like mincemeat, have two apples and one pumpkin. Always have three. When else do you get to have more than one dessert? Labor Day?
Did someone mention fruitcake? Granted, its loaded with the mandatory celebratory calories, but avoid it at all cost. I mean, have some standards, woman! (Unless it was my Moms fruitcake, then you have to have two thin slices. Mustve been the rum she soaked it in for 2 months.)
And one final tip: If you dont feel terrible when you leave the party or get up from the table, you havent been paying attention. Reread tips. Start over. But hurry! Cookieless January is just around the corner.
Sandy McTavish was walking the Macys basement sale when, before his
eyes on the sale table, was a bolt of the McTavish tartan! Hed been
in New York for about six years and his kilt showed it, so the need
was there, the price was right and he approached the sales clerk (youll
have to supply your own Scottish burr).
Lassie, Eyd like a yayrd an a haf o the McTavish tartin
Beg your pardon sir?
Yaryrd an a haf o the McTavish tartin, Im needin a new kilt
Im sorry sir, youll have to show me the material you mean
So he walked her over to the sale table and showed her what he wanted.
Sorry sir, that plaid only comes in three yard lengths
Ya dunna understand lassie, I dunna need three yayrds, I need a yayrd an a haf
Im sorry sir, you dont understand, that plaid comes in three yard lengths,
why not take a yard and a half, make your kilt, and take the other yard and a
half and make a scarf for your girl friend?
It was clear that Sandy needed a new kilt and that he was going to have to buy
three yards if he was going to get the McTavish tartan…
All ryut, Ill buy the thrree yayrds!
He did and went home, made a new kilt and a scarf for his girl friend. He
was so pleased with his new kilt that he decided hed go over and show it to
her and let the scarf be a surprise. As he was running over to her house he
forgot that the pattern hed used was over six years old and hed lost some
forty pounds in the mean time (two stone?). As a result, the new kilt slipped
down off his waist, over his hips and was gone. He got to her door and knocked.
She saw him in the window and opened the door and as she did, he threw open
his coat and said:
Well! How dee ya lyke et?
She looked and thought a moment and replied, I guess I like it just fine.
Aye Lass, and theres another one nahalf yards yell be gettin for Christmas!