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Thread: Chuckles of the Day...
04-30-03, 08:05 AM #2176
THE PROSTITUTE'S HEART TRANSPLANT
A prostitute went to visit a colleague in the hospital just before she was about to have a heart transplant.
The woman, concerned about her friend's welfare, went up to the surgeon who was going to perform the operation and said, "Doctor, I'm worried about my friend. What if her body rejects the organ?"
The doctor replied, "Well, she's 34 years old and is in extremely good health, apart from her heart. How long has she been in the business?"
The patient's friend replied, "She's been working since she was 18 years old, but what's that got to do with anything?"
"Well," said the doctor, "if she's been working for 16 years and hasn't rejected an organ, I don't think she's about to start now!"
04-30-03, 08:06 AM #2177
An excellent alternative to the Sunscreen song:
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, alcohol would be it.
The long-term benefits of alcohol have been consistently misunderstood by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own drunken experience.
I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your alcohol tolerance. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your alcohol tolerance until it's faded.
But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself puking in a gutter and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much alcohol you drank and how fabulous it really was.
You are not as sick as you imagine.
Don't worry about where the next beer is coming from. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to pull a page three model after 15 pints of Stella.
The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your drink-addled mind, like the unexpected lack of ale in the fridge on some idle Tuesday.
Drink one thing every day that scares you.
Be reckless when buying other people drinks. Don't put up with people who are reckless when buying yours.
Don't waste your time on shandy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only to the bar.
Make up compliments you received. Return the insults. If you don't succeed in doing this drink more beer now. Keep your old ring pulls. Throw away your old cans.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know when you might dry-out in you life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 when they would sober up. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still haven't.
Get plenty of kebabs.
Don't be too kind to your liver. You'll hardly miss it when it's gone.
Maybe you'll pull, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll get some bird up the duff, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll enter rehab at 40, maybe you'll dance the nude conga at your 75th University Reunion.
Whatever you do, congratulate yourself far too much and berate others. Your choices are half alcohol influenced. So are everybody else's. Enjoy someone else's body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what the lads might think of it. It's probably the only time you'll ever pull.
Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but on the street with a can of Special Brew.
Ignore the directions, don't ever follow them.
Do not read beauty magazines, just cut out the pictures and put them on your wall.
Get to know your parents. You never know when you'll have to tap them for some cash.
Be nice to your barman. They're your best link to the bar and the person most likely to stop you getting your head kicked by a bouncer when paralytic in the future.
Understand that favorite drinks come and go, but with a precious flammable few you should hold on.
Work hard to bridge the gaps in strength and consistency, because the older you get, the harder it will be to neck ales like when you were young.
Live in London once, but leave before it makes you a ponce. Live in Liverpool once, but leave before everything you own gets stolen.
Accept certain inalienable truths: Beer prices will rise. Bouncers will throw you out. You, too, will get a hangover. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, bouncers couldn't catch you, and hangovers were NEVER as bad as this.
Respect alcoholics. Don't expect anyone else to buy you a beer.
Maybe you'll have a huge overdraft. Maybe you'll have a wealthy bird. But you never know when either one might stop getting you ****ed.
Don't mess too much with alcopops or by the time you're 25 you will look like a faggot.
Be careful whose cheap booze you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Cheap booze is a form of rip-off. Dispensing it is a way of fishing old stock from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the sell-by date and re-selling it for more than it's worth.
But trust me on the alcohol.
04-30-03, 08:07 AM #2178
A GIFT FOR HIS MOTHER-IN-LAW
Two guys were talking at work.
"I've got a problem," said the first one.
"What is it?"
"My wife has done it to me again. I'm supposed to buy my mother-in-law a present for her birthday, from the two of us. And I am fresh out of ideas. I mean it's HER mother, why can't she buy it?"
"What did you buy her last year?" the other one asked.
"Last year I bought her a VERY EXPENSIVE cemetery plot."
"Hmmmm, hard to top that one," said the other.
The two guys couldn't come up with anything. So the son-in-law didn't buy his mother-in-law anything for her birthday.
When the big day arrived the next weekend, she was a bit upset. At the family gathering for her birthday, she announced out loud to everyone, "Thank you all for the wonderful gifts. Too bad my daughter and son-in-law weren't so thoughtful!"
Thinking quickly, the son-in-law responded, "Well, you haven't used the gift I gave you last year!"
04-30-03, 08:07 AM #2179
PMS AND THE LIGHT BULB
How many women with PMS does it take to screw in a light bulb?
One. ONE!! And do you know WHY it only takes ONE? Because no one else in this house knows HOW to change a light bulb. They don't even know the bulb is BURNED OUT. They would sit in this house in the dark for THREE DAYS before they figured it OUT. And once they figured it out they wouldn't be able to find the light bulbs despite the fact that they've been in the SAME CUPBOARD for the past SEVENTEEN YEARS. But if they did, by some miracle, find the light bulbs, TWO DAYS LATER the chair that they dragged from two rooms over to stand on to change the STUPID light bulb would STILL BE IN THE SAME SPOT!!!!! AND UNDERNEATH IT WOULD BE THE CRUMPLED WRAPPER THE STUPID LIGHT BULBS CAME IN. WHY??? BECAUSE NO ONE IN THIS HOUSE EVER CARRIES OUT THE GARBAGE!!!! IT'S A WONDER WE HAVEN'T ALL SUFFOCATED FROM THE PILES OF GARBAGE THAT ARE 12 FEET DEEP THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE HOUSE. THE HOUSE!! THE HOUSE!!! IT WOULD TAKE AN ARMY TO CLEAN THIS ...
04-30-03, 08:08 AM #2180
HOW TO MAKE YOUR HUSBAND CRAZY
* Take the batteries out of all the remotes in the house.
* Organize his workshop, dresser top, or other special place.
* Bribe his faithful dog away from him with a steady diet of Ring Dings.
* Shrink his underwear in the dryer and when he complains, innocently suggest that he's gained a few pounds.
* Stare at his forehead and when he notices, casually ask if there is any history of male pattern baldness on his mother's side.
* Repeatedly misplace the cordless phone, preferably in a different room each time.
* Loan his precious cellular phone to a pregnant girlfriend who "needs it more than he does."
* Insist upon a lot of "meaningful conversations."
* Have your mother fly in for a month-long visit unannounced.
* Reverse his contact lenses in their case.
* Snip a small hole in his fishing waders, then follow him with a camera to capture his "sinking" on film.
* Superglue the pages of his Little Black Book together.
04-30-03, 08:08 AM #2181
The Navy and the Air Force decided to have a canoe race on the Potomac River. Both teams practiced hard and long to reach their peak performance before the race. On the big day, the Navy won by a mile. Afterwards, the Air Force team became very discouraged and depressed. The officers of the Air Force team decided that the reason for the crushing defeat had to be found.
A "Metrics Team," made up of senior officers was formed to investigate and recommend appropriate action. Their conclusion was that the Navy had 8 seamen rowing and 1 officer steering, while the Air Force had 1 airman rowing and 8 officers and NCOs steering.
So the senior officers of the Air Force team hired a consulting company and paid them incredible amounts of money. They advised that too many people were steering the boat and not enough people were rowing.
To prevent losing to the Navy again the next year, the Air Force Chief of Staff made historic and sweeping changes: the rowing team's organizational structure was totally realigned to 4 steering officers, 3 area steering superintendents and 1 assistant superintendent steering NCO.
They also implemented a new performance system that would give the 1 airman rowing the boat greater incentive to work harder. It was called the "Air Force Rowing Team Quality Program", with meetings, dinners, and a three-day pass for the rower. "We must give the rower empowerment and enrichment through this quality program."
The next year the Navy won by 2 miles.
Humiliated, the Air Force leadership gave a letter of reprimand to the rower for poor performance. Initiated a $4 billion program for development of a new joint-service canoe, blamed the loss on a design defect in the paddles, and issued career continuation bonuses and leather rowing jackets to the beleaguered steering officers in the hopes they would stay for next year's race.
Meanwhile, the Army team is still trying to figure out why the oars keep making divots in the grass when they're rowing.
04-30-03, 08:10 AM #2182
Seems there was a young soldier, who, just before battle, told his sergeant that he didn't have a rifle.
"That's no problem, son," said the sergeant. "Here, take this broom. Just point it at the Germans, and go 'Bangety Bang Bang'."
"But what about a bayonet, Sarge?" asked the young (and gullible) recruit.
The sergeant pulls a piece of straw from the end of the broom, and attaches it to the handle end. "Here, use this... just go, 'Stabity Stab Stab'."
The recruit ends up alone on the battlefield, holding just his broom. Suddenly, a German soldier charges at him. The recruit points the broom, "Bangety Bang Bang!" The German falls dead.
More Germans appear. The recruit, amazed at his good luck, goes "Bangety Bang Bang! Stabity Stab Stab!" He mows down the enemy by the dozens. Finally, the battlefield is clear, except for one German soldier walking slowly toward him.
"Bangety Bang Bang! shouts the recruit. The German keeps coming. "Bangety Bang Bang!" repeats the recruit, to no avail. He gets desperate. "Bangety Bang Bang! Stabity Stab Stab!" It's no use.
The German keeps coming. He stomps the recruit into the ground, and says, "Tankety Tank Tank."
05-01-03, 07:53 AM #2183
An old woman had been married to a farmer all her adult life. They
had cows and horses on their farm, and they grew a number of crops
at the local farmer's market. One day, while shopping at the local
grocery store for a few items that she and her husband did not raise
for themselves, she came across a contest form. It was from the
Milk Company and the object was to complete a jingle in fifty words
The company furnished the first line of the jingle: "I like
of all ..." It was about those little cans of milk found on the
shelves, objects of both humor and scorn for many farm folk. So the
farm woman completed the jingle, sent it off to the Carnation Milk
and promptly forgot about the whole thing. A couple of months
woman was surprised when a Carnation Milk representative came to
told her that her entry in their contest had been the best one
Unfortunately, the company could not publish it nor use it in their
advertising. So, in lieu of publishing, they had decided that her
was worthy of at least a consolation award and presented her with a
check in the amount of $1000 for her creativity.
Her entry follows:
"I like Carnation best of all,
No tits to pull, no **** to haul,
No barns to clean, no hay to pitch,
Just punch a hole in the sonofa*****."
05-01-03, 07:54 AM #2184
Boot camp. Duluth, Minnesota. February. Six A.M. Six below zero.
The Sergeant bellows, "Outta those bunks! Birthday suit inspection! I want you (deleted) to fall in outside, NOW! Buck nekkid! Stand close enough to make the man in front of you smile! MOVE, YOU #@$$&*s!"
The barracks quickly empty, the men fall in and shiver at attention.
The Sergeant hollers, "LOOSEN RANKS!"
The ranks separate a bit. The Captain approaches, carrying a swagger stick. With the stick, he swats one of the men across the chest.
"Did that hurt, Mister?" the Captain demands.
"No, SIR!" the recruit shouts.
"Why not?" barks the Captain.
"Because I'm a U.S. Marine, SIR!"
The Captain nods, and moves on down the front rank a bit. He whacks another man across the butt.
"Did that hurt, Mister?"
"Because I'm a U.S. Marine, SIR!"
Satisfied, the Captain continues on down the rank. He notices that one of the men is sporting a huge erection, and brings his stick down sharply on the proffered target.
"Did that hurt, Mister?"
"Because it belongs to the fellow behind me, SIR!"
05-01-03, 07:57 AM #2185
Ashes to ashes...
After several years of marriage, Debbie's husband, Mike, died suddenly. According to his wishes, Debbie had his body cremated and placed the remains in a small urn.
Several weeks later, Debbie came home wearing a full-length mink coat and an eight-carat diamond ring. She went into the living room, removed the urn from the mantel and carefully tapped Mike's ashes into a small dish on the coffee table.
"Mike, my beloved Mike," she began, "I wish to talk to you. Mike, do you remember, for several years you promised me a mink coat? Well, here it is, Mike. Do you like it?
"And, Mike," she continued, "do you remember, for several years you promised me a diamond ring? Yes? You remember? Here it is, Mike. Do you like it?
"Well," Debbie exclaimed, puffing Mike's ashes into the air, "there's that blow job I was promising you."
05-01-03, 07:58 AM #2186
37 more telephone responses
This is not an answering machine--this is a telepathic thought-recording device. After the tone, think about your name, your reason for calling, and a number where I can reach you, and I'll think about returning your call.
Thanks for calling Dial-An-*******. Right now, all our *******s are busy. After the tone, leave your name and number, and we'll have an ******* return your call as soon as possible.
I can't come to the phone now because alien beings are eating my brain. Leave a message anyway, and after the alien beings assume my shape, one of them will get back to you.
I can't come to the phone now because I have amnesia and I feel stupid talking to people I don't remember. I'd appreciate it if you could help me out by leaving my name and telling me something about myself. Thanks.
C'mon...you can do it...just a little one. That's the way...just a little beep, just a little one. C'mon...good boy...here we go...like this--beeeeep, just a little one, beeeeeeeeeep, c'mon...There you go!
Andy Warhol said that one day everyone will be famous for 15 minutes. Well, your 15 minutes was last week, but since you weren't ready, we gave it to Vanna White. Sorry.
Thank you for calling the Confessional Hotline. Father Durway's not here right now, but if you'll leave your name, number, and confession at the tone, he'll get back to you with absolution as soon as possible. And remember, confession doesn't count unless you confess all of your sins in vivid, graphic detail!
I can't come to the phone right now because I'm down in the basement printing up a fresh new batch of 20 dollar bills. If you need any money, or if you just want to check out my handiwork, please leave your name, number, and how much cash you need after the tone. If you're from the Department of the Treasury, please ignore this message.
[VOICE 1] Answer the phone, please, Hal.
[VOICE 2] I'm sorry, Dave, I can't do that.
[For Shakespeare lovers only]
So long as phones can ring and eyes can see,
So leave a message, and I'll get back to thee.
Thanks for calling Dial-A-Shrink. I can't come to the phone right now, so after the tone, please leave your name and number, then talk briefly about your childhood and tell me what comes to mind when you hear the following words: orange...mother...unicorn...penis. I'll get back to you with my diagnosis as soon as possible.
[Sung to the tune of "Ride of the Valkyries"]
Leave a message...leave a message....etc.
Next on Public Radio 91 we'll be hearing music of Antonin Dvorak. This is the Beep Serenade in C-Sharp Minor, Opus 72....
This is a test. This is a test of the Answering Machine Broadcast System. This is only a test.
No! NO! Not THAT! Anything but that! Not the beep! No! Please! Not the beep! Anything but the beep! AAAAIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!
You're growing tired. Your eyelids are getting heavy. You feel very sleepy now. You are gradually losing your willpower and your ability to resist suggestions. When you hear the tone you will feel helplessly compelled to leave your name, number, and a message.
As the drugs take hold, you feel you are losing your grip on reality. You begin to hallucinate. You see a telephone...the telephone is next to an answering machine...you hear a faint click and a light flashes on the answering machine...you hear a beep....
Prepare for alpha test of Beep Software revision 1.05. Counting down to test: 5...4...3...2...1...
After the tone, leave your name, number, and tell where you left the money. I'll get back to you as soon as it's safe for you to come out of hiding.
Don't you do it! Don't you dare! I don't want to hear it! Don't you beep! If you beep, I'll...don't even think about it!....Don't....!
I can't come to the phone now, so...hey--that's a nice phone you have there. Hey sugar, you call this number often? I bet you have answering machines bothering you all the time...yes indeedy. Why don't you give me a call sometime and we can listen to some old recordings...I might even play my beep for you...
I can't come to the phone now, so if, well, actually, I CAN come to the phone now, I mean, like, I'm at the phone NOW, recording this message, but I'm doing this NOW, while you're listening to it LATER, except for you I guess it's NOW, like, when you're listening to it...I mean, like, wait, gosh. This is so confusing.
How do you leave a message on this thing? I can't understand the instructions. Hello. Testing 1 2 3. I wonder what happens if I touch this...YOW!!
Thank you for calling the Metropolitan Church of the Holy Bible. Today's commandment is Number 6, Thou shalt not...er...bear a...er...shalt not witness thy...uh...neighbor's ass, oh, I mean, false...er...shalt not commit a bear...dern...
05-01-03, 07:59 AM #2187
A woman strode angrily into the large drug-store-cum-general-store, slapped a package on the counter, and loudly expressed her dissatisfaction.
The clerk asked "What was the problem? Wouldn't your cat eat them?"
The woman's eyes got very large, and she whispered, "Do you mean to tell me that Pussy Treats are meant for cats?"
05-01-03, 08:01 AM #2188
Cleanliness is next to ...
A great Soviet general was once asked by his adjutant, "Comrade General, what is the meaning of Marxist dialectic?"
The general replied, "I will explain it to you with an example. A filthy man is standing outside a bath house. Will he go in?"
"Of course," replied the adjutant.
"No, you're wrong," said the general. "A filthy man is filthy by his nature, and will not go in to the bath house. Only clean men, knowing the virtues of cleanliness, will bathe."
"I understand, comrade general."
"Now, let me give you another example. A filthy man is standing outside a bath house. Will he go in?"
"Absolutely not," replied the adjutant immediately.
"You're wrong again," said the general. "Why should a filthy man not enter a bath house? He is dirty, the bath house is there to enable him to become clean, and he will use it."
"I think I understand, comrade."
"Now, one last example. A filthy man is standing outside a bath house. Will he go in?"
"How the hell should I know?"
"Now, comrade, you truly understand the meaning of Marxist dialectic."
05-01-03, 08:04 AM #2189
The brothel makes us strong
dedicated shop steward was at a convention in Las Vegas and decided to check out the local brothels.
When he got to the first one, he asked the madame, "Is this a union house?"
"No, I'm sorry it isn't."
"Well, if I pay you $100, what cut do the girls get?"
"The house gets $80 and the girls get $20."
Mightily offended at such unfair dealings, the man stomped off down the street in search of a more equitable shop.
His search continued as long as you want to draw things out, until finally he reached a brothel where the madame said, "Why yes, this is a union house."
"And if I pay you $100, what cut do the girls get?"
"The girls get $80 and the house gets $20."
"That's more like it!" the man said. He looked around the room and pointed to a stunningly attractive redhead. "I'd like her for the night."
"I'm sure you would, sir,"
05-01-03, 08:05 AM #2190
(Well, since there seems to be a plethora of Soviet jokes anyway... This one was told to me by a Russian.)
It seems that Reagan and Gorbachev arranged a competition to determine whose nation had the bravest troops. The two leaders arrived, at the designated hour, on a plateau in Finland high above the water. Each was accompanied by a battalion of crack troops, smartly uniformed. The leaders shook hands.
Reagan went first. He addressed his battalion of Marines:
"Private Jones! Front and center."
Private Jones saluted and briskly marched to the front of the ranks, facing his commander.
"Private Jones! March to the edge of the cliff."
Private Jones saluted and briskly marched to the very edge of the cliff.
"Private Jones! Jump!"
Jones just stood there, unmoving.
"Private Jones! I said jump!"
The man's knees started to shake, but he was otherwise motionless.
"Private Jones! This is your Commander-in-Chief. I ORDER YOU TO JUMP!!!" Private Jones wailed out: "I can't! I have a wife--and a family!"
The MPs arrived and escorted Jones away for court martial. Reagan backed off in disgrace. It was now Gorbachev's turn.
"Comrade Dmitrivich! Front and center."
Comrade Dmitrivich saluted and briskly marched to the front of the ranks, facing his commander.
"Comrade Dmitrivich! March to the edge of the cliff."
Dmitrivich saluted and briskly marched to the very edge of the cliff.
"Comrade Dmitrivich! Jump!"
Dmitrivich jumped off the cliff.
By some miracle, he is snagged on a branch and he lands on a crag some 50 feet below the top of the cliff. Dmitrivich is badly injured, but still alive and conscious. He is carried away on a stretcher.
As Dmitrivich is carried passed Private Jones, Jones cannot resist asking him:
"Dmitrivich! How could you do it? How could you jump?"
Dmitrivich answered: "I had to! I have a wife--and a family!"
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