There were 3 men working on the harbour bridge, all of a sudden the lunch signal rang, so they started to have their lunch. The 3 people were, Chinese, Irish, and an Australian. The Chinese person looked inside his sandwich and said, “Oh CRAP! If I get peanut butter sandwich again from my wife, I am going to jump off the bridge!†the Irish person looked in his sandwich and said, “Oh CRAP! If I get peanut butter and jelly sandwich from my wife again, I will jump off the bridge!†The Australian said, “Oh CRAP! Not Mortadella again, if I get this sandwich again I am going to jump off the bridge!†so the next day the Chinese person looks in his sandwich and says, “Phew, I’ve got a cheese sandwich!†so he eats it. The Irish person looks in his sandwich and says, “Phew, I’ve got a vegemite sandwich!†so he eats it. The Australian looked in his sandwich, and he jumped off the bridge. The Irish person said, “I don’t understand, he makes his own lunch!â€Â.
Because its the only way they can drive with handcuffs on.
Three elderly women, recently transplanted from the Northeast to a Florida retirement community, were getting acquainted at poolside. Inevitably, theirconversation turned to children. My son is the most successful doctor on Park Avenue, announced one.
Not to be outdone, the second remarked, My son is the most successful lawyer on Wall Street.
The third remained conspicuously silent. Sensing easier game, the first matron inquired, And you, dear, do you have a son?
And is he a professional? demanded the second.
Well, not exactly, answered the third. Actually, hes a plumber. And notonly that, hes gay.
Beaming, one of the poor womans interrogators offered consolation: Ah, hes not doing so well.
This time it was the third woman who smiled. Hes not doing too badly, she explained.
He goes out with the most successful doctor on Park Avenue and the most successful lawyer on Wall Street.
Two stockbrokers went to lunch. One looked at the other and said, Lets relax while we eat and talk about something other than the market or any kind of business at all.
Good idea Sam. Lets talk about women.
OK – common or preferred?
In a small cathedral a janitor was cleaning the pews between services when he was approached by the minister. The minister asked the janitor, Could you go into the confessional and listen to confessions for me? I really have to go to the bathroom and the Widow McGee is coming. She tends to go on but never really does anything worthy of serious repentance, so when shes done just give her 10 Hail Marys and Ill be right back.
Being the helpful sort, the janitor agreed. Just as expected the Widow McGee came into the booth and started her confession. Oh Father, I fear I have done the unforgivable. I have given into carnal thoughts and have had oral sex.
Stunned, the janitor had no idea how to handle this situation. Surely 10 Hail Marys would not do. So, in a moment of desperation the janitor peered his head out of the confessional and asked an altar boy, Son, what does the minister give for oral sex?
In reply the altar boy said, Two Snickers bars and a Coke.
One day the owner of a porno store goes out for a while, leaving the shop to his
salesman. Soon a woman goes into the porno shop.
She asks, How much for the white dildo?
The Shopkeeper answers, $35.
She: How much for the black one?
He: $35 for the black one, $35 for the white one.
She: I think Ill take the black one. Ive never had a black one before.
She pays him, and off she goes.
A little bit later a black woman comes in and asks, How much for the black
dildo?
He: $35.
She: How much for the white one?
He: $35 for the white one, $35 for the black one.
She: Hmmm… I think Ill take the white one. Ive never had a white one
before…
She pays him, and off she goes.
About an hour later a young blonde woman comes in and asks, How much are your
dildos?
He: $35 for the white, $35 for the black.
She: Hmmmmm… how much is that plaid one on the shelf?
He: Well, thats a very special dildo… itll cost you $165.
She thinks for a moment and answers, Ill take the plaid one, Ive never had a
plaid one before…
She pays him, and off she goes.
Finally, the guys boss returns and asks, How did you do while I was gone? To
which the saleman responded, I did really good, I sold one white dildo, one
black dildo, and I sold your thermos for $165!
YOU MIGHT BE A REDNECK IF:
Your grandmother has ever been asked to leave the bingo hall because of her language
your entire family has ever sat around waiting for a call from the Governor to spare a loved one
youve ever raked leaves in your kitchen
your stereo speakers used to belong to the Moonlight Drive-In Theater
you call the time you won a free case of motor oil as the day my ship came in
you clean your fingernails with a stick
you hammer bottle caps into the frame of your front door to make it look nice
Dear sir,
I am writing in response to your request for additional information for block number 3 of the accident reporting form.
I put poor planning as the cause of my accident. You said in your letter that I should explain more fully and I trust the following detail will be sufficient.
I am an amateur radio operator and on the day of the accident, I was working alone on the top section of my new 80 foot tower. When I had completed my work, I discovered that I had, over the course of several trips up the tower, brought up about 300 pounds of tools and spare hardware. Rather than carry the now un-needed tools and material down by hand, I decided to lower the items down in a small barrel by using a pulley, which fortunately was attached to the gin pole at the top of the tower.
Securing the rope at ground level, I went to the top of the tower and loaded the tools and material into the barrel. Then I went back to the ground and untied the rope, holding it tightly to insure a slow decent of the 300 pounds of tools.
You will note in block number 11 of the accident reporting form, that I weigh only 155 pounds. Due to my surprise of being jerked off the ground so suddenly, I lost my presence of mind and forgot to let go of the rope.
Needless to say, I proceeded at a rather rapid rate of speed up the side of the tower. In the vicinity of the 40 foot level, I met the barrel coming down. This explains my fractured skull and broken collarbone.
Slowed only slightly, I continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until the fingers of my right hand were two knuckles deep into the pulley.
Fortunately, by this time, I had regained my presence of mind and was able to hold onto the rope in-spite-of my pain.
At approximately the same time, however, the barrel of tools hit the ground and the bottom fell out of the barrel.
Devoid of the weight of the tools, the barrel now weighed approximately 20 pounds. I refer you again to my weight in block number 11.
As you might imagine, I began a rapid descent down the side of the tower. In the vicinity of the 40 foot level, I met the barrel coming up. This accounts for the two fractured ankles and the lacerations of my legs and lower body.
The encounter with the barrel slowed me enough to lessen my injuries when I fell onto the pile of tools and fortunately, only three vertebrae were cracked.
I am sorry to report, however, that as I lay there on the tools, in pain, unable to stand and watching the empty barrel 80 feet above me …
I again lost my presence of mind. I let go of the rope.
Three nuns were in the church the other day and the 1st nun says, I was going through the Fathers office and do you know what I found? A bunch of pornographic magazines! What did you do? the other nuns asked.Well, of course I threw them in the trash. The second nun said, Well, I can top that. I was in Fathers room putting away the laundry and I found a bunch of condoms! Oh my! gasped the other nuns.What did you do? they asked. I poked holes in all of them! she replied.The third nun fainted.
Oh SPAM(tm)! Oh SPAM(tm)! Gourmet delight!
My food by day, my dreams by night.
To carve, to slice, to dice you up –
pureed in a blender and sipped from a cup.
What shining deity from Olympus knelt
down to the earth and hog butt smelt?
Creating then mans eternal desire
for swine entrails congealed by fire.
On some corporate farm, a pig has died.
Eyes, tongue, and snout end up inside
that cube of SPAM(tm) hidden in the can
I now hold in my trembling hand.
More than mere food, SPAM(tm) is for me
a hedonistic expression of gluttonous glee.
Mottled with pork fat, the pink cube engrosses.
My mouth takes it in, my intestine disposes.
Long have my arteries clogged to the sound
of sizzling SPAM(tm) when theres no one around –
furtively chewing or swallowing whole.
Triple bypass by forty, my medical goal.
Other processed meat products Ive tried or declined
Vienna Sausages, Treet, even pigs feet in brine.
Though each may be tasty in different ways,
none matches SPAM(tm) for gelatinous glaze.
That glistening pinkness beckons me
with gristle, fat, and BHT.
Oh SPAM(tm), my SPAM(tm) – the taste, the smell!
The sacred meat product, from Hormel.