Jokes.................

[bandit12]

The wife has been missing a week now. Police said to prepare for the worst. So I have to go to the charity shop to get all her clothes back.

Man calls 911 and says "I think my wife is dead"

The operator says how do you know?

He says "The sex is the same but the dishes are building up!"

My girlfriend thinks that I’m a stalker.

Well, she’s not exactly my girlfriend yet.

What’s the difference between Iron Man and Iron Woman?

One’s a superhero and the other is an instruction.

[Ringo]

Lawyer puts a Doctor on trial and asks if before he conducted the biopsy he checked the persons heart rate. The doctor replied no because his brain was in a bottle next to him. So the lawyer replies oh so it is possible that the man could have still had a heart rate. The doctor looks odly at the lawyer and says exactly, he could be practicing law somewhere.

[alab32]

A young boy went up to his father and asked him, 'Dad, what is the difference between potentially and realistically?' The father thought for a moment, then answered, 'Go ask your mother if she would sleep with Brad Pitt for a million dollars.

Then ask your sister if she would sleep with Brad Pitt for a Million dollars, and then ask your brother if he'd sleep with Brad Pitt for a million dollars. Come back and tell me what you learn from that.' So the boy went to his mother and asked, 'Would you sleep with Brad Pitt for a million dollars?' The mother replied, 'Of course I would! We could really use that money to fix up the house and send you kids to a great University!' The boy then went to his sister and asked, 'Would you sleep with Brad Pitt for a million dollars?' The girl replied, 'Oh my Gawd! I LOVE Brad Pitt I would sleep with him in a heartbeat, are you nuts?' The boy then went to his brother and asked, 'Would you sleep with Brad Pitt for a million dollars?' 'Of course,' the brother replied. 'Do you know what a million Bucks would buy?' The boy pondered the answers for a few days and then went back to his dad.

His father asked him, 'Did you find out the difference between 'potentially' and 'realistically'?' The boy replied, 'Yes, 'Potentially', you and I are sitting on Three million dollars.

But 'realistically', we're just living with two hookers and a queer.

[Carwhore]

A man runs over his wife, who's at fault?

The man he shouldn't of been driving in the kitchen.

[Carwhore]

what's strong enough for a man, but made for a woman?

The back of his hand

[Carwhore]

What do you do when the dishwashers broken?

Slap her on the ass and tell her to get back to work.

[Carwhore]

What happens when a women doesn't clean the house? Idk ask Rihanna

[Carwhore]

How is a woman like a condom? Both of them spend more time in your wallet than on your dick.

[redbarron77]

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 pick up an order. 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 bathroom. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 0 through 4 (I write a lot of software) for your convenience:

0.Occupied

1.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.

2.Poo on seat.

3.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.

4.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall #1. I trudged back, entered, dropped Trousers and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful Pooper. 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. S was blathering to Mrs. S about the crappy 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 in 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 resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.

-

Once my butt 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; and (3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench.

It was as if a gateway to heck 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 the suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"

Next door I could hear fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my 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 difficulty 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 a string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.

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 to 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 manged 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.

[Casper]

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 pick up an order. 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 bathroom. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 0 through 4 (I write a lot of software) for your convenience:

0.Occupied

1.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.

2.Poo on seat.

3.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.

4.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall #1. I trudged back, entered, dropped Trousers and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful Pooper. 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. S was blathering to Mrs. S about the crappy 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 in 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 resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.

-

Once my butt 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; and (3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench.

It was as if a gateway to heck 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 the suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"

Next door I could hear fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my 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 difficulty 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 a string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.

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 to 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 manged 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.

[redbarron77]

This really does work.

Picture yourself lying on a rock that hangs out over a clear stream.

Both your hands dangling in the cool water. No one knows this place.

You are in seclusion. You hear the waterfall sounds of serenity.

The water is so clear that you can easily make out the face of the person you are holding underwater.

There...see!! It really does work. You're smiling already

[Scruit]

I managed to hit resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.

When I read that line I had to put my coffee down because I was laughing to hard to hold it steady.

[redbarron77]

You think seven years is bad for breaking a mirror?

Try breaking a condom.

[redbarron77]

A preacher was making his rounds on a bicycle when he came upon a little boy trying to sell a lawn mower. 'How much do you want for the mower?' asked the preacher.

'I just want enough money to go out and buy me a bicycle,' said the little boy. After a moment of consideration, the preacher asked, Will you take my bike in trade for it?'

The little boy asked if he could try it out first, and, after riding the bike around a little while, said, 'Mister, you've got yourself a deal.'

The preacher took the mower and began to crank it. He pulled on the rope a few times with no response from the mower.

The preacher called the little boy over and said, 'I can't get this mower to start.' The little boy said, 'That's because you have to cuss at it to get it started.' The preacher said, 'I can't cuss. It's been so long since I became a Christian that I don't even remember how to cuss.'

The little boy looked at him happily and said, 'You just keep pulling on that rope. It'll come back to ya.'

[redbarron77]

Two guys are fishig in a boat under a bridge. One looks up and sees a funeral procession starting across the bridge. He stands up, takes off his cap, and bows his head. The procession crosses the bridge and the man puts on his cap, picks up his rod and reel, and continues fishing. The other guy says, "That was touching. I didn't know you had it in you."

The first guy responds, "Well, I guess it was the thing to do - after all, I was married to her for 40 years".

Now that's respect!

[redbarron77]

A man was riding through the desert on his camel. He had been traveling so long that he felt the need to have sex. Obviously there were no women in the desert, so the man turned to his camel.

When he tried to position himself to have sex with his camel, the camel ran away. The man ran to catch up to the camel and got back on and started to ride again. Soon he was feeling the urge to have sex again so once again he turned to his camel. The camel refused and started running away again. So, he caught up to it again and go on it again.

Finally after riding the camel through the whole desert the man came to a road. There was a broken down car with three big chested beautiful blondes sitting in it. He went up to them and asked the women if they needed any help.

The hottest girl said, "If you fix our car we will do anything you want."

The man luckily knew a thing or two about cars and fixed it in a flash.

When he finished are three girls asked, "How could we ever repay you mister."

After thinking for a short while he replied, "Could you hold my camel?"

[redbarron77]

It’s the spring of 1959, and Bobby arrives at his date’s house to take her to a dance. When he knocks on the door, her dad answers.

“Have a seat,” the old man says. “Peggy Sue will be ready in a minute.” The dad grabs Bobby a cold beer, and the two sit down together. “You know,” the dad says, “my daughter really loves to screw. She just loves to work up a sweat.” He smiles proudly and winks at Bobby, who has nearly choked on his beer. “Yup, yup,” the dad continues. “She loves that screwing. Just can’t get enough of it.”

When Peggy Sue comes down the stairs, Bobby hurries her out the door to his car. Five minutes later, she comes running back inside. “Damn it, Daddy!” she screams. “The twist! It’s called the twist!”

[redbarron77]

A professor of mathematics sent a fax to his wife.

It read: "Dear wife, You must realize that you are 54 years old and I have certain needs which you are no longer able to satisfy. I am otherwise happy with you as a wife, and I sincerely hope you will not be hurt or offended to learn that by the time you receive this letter, I will be at the Grand Hotel with my 18-year-old teaching assistant.

I'll be home before midnight. - Your Husband."

When he arrived at the hotel, there was a faxed letter waiting for him that read as follows:

"Dear Husband. You too are 54 years old, and by the time you receive this, I will be at the Breakwater Hotel with the 18-year-old pool boy. Being the brilliant mathematician that you are, you can easily appreciate the fact that 18 goes into 54 a lot more times than 54 goes into 18. Don't wait up."

[redbarron77]

Two guys were staring into their drinks when one said, "Hey, Harry, have you ever suspected your wife of leading a double life?"

"Yeah, all the time," Harry said. "Hers and mine."

[redbarron77]

There was a virgin that was going out on a date for the first time and her grandmother was concerned.

Her grandmother says, "Sit here and let me tell you about those young boys. "He is going to try to kiss you; you are going to like that, but don't let him do that."

She continued, "Then he is going to try to feel your breast; you are going to like that, but don't let him do that. He is going to try to put his hand between your legs; you are going to like that, but don't let him do that."

Then the grandmother said, "But, most importantly, he is going to try to get on top of you and have his way with you. You are going to like that, but don't let him do that. It will disgrace your family."

With that bit of advice in mind, the granddaughter went on her date and could not wait to tell her grandmother about it.

The next day she told her grandmother that her date went just as the old lady said.

She said, "Grandmother, I didn't let him disgrace our family. When he tried, I turned him over, got on top of him and disgraced his family."

[redbarron77]

On a passenger flight, the pilot comes over the public address system as usual and to greet the passengers. He tells them at what altitude they’ll be flying, the expected arrival time, and a bit about the weather, and advises them to relax and have a good flight..

Then, forgetting to turn off the microphone, he says to his co-pilot, "What would relax me right now is a cup of coffee and a blowjob."

All the passengers hear it. As a stewardess immediately begins to run toward the cockpit to tell the pilot of his slip-up, one of the passengers stops her and says "Don’t forget the coffee!"

[Joey614]

Here's a good joke.

A smart women.....

[Scruit]

Here's a good joke.

A smart women.....

For real?

[redbarron77]

1. The Optimist - Oh Yes, Oh Yes, Oh Yes......... ......

2. The Pessimist - Oh No, Oh No, Oh No.......... .......

3. The Confused - Oh Yes, Oh No, Oh Yes, Oh No.........

4. The Traveler - Ahh, I'm coming, I'm coming...... ....

5. The Religious - Oh God, Oh God......... ......... ....

6. The Userer - Ahh, More, More, More........ ......... .

7. The Murderer - Ahh, If you take it out, I'll kill you

8. The Submariner - Mmm...OHHH.. .Deeper.. .Deeper.. . GO DEEPER!!

[redbarron77]

A guy and a girl are lying in a dorm-room bed after just having sex. The girl lays on her side of the bed and rests.

The guy goes to his side of the bed and says to himself, "Man oh Man I finally did it! I'm no longer a virgin."

The girl overhears him talking to himself and asks, "Are you saying you lost your virginity to me?"

"Well," the guy explains, "I always wanted to wait until I was with the woman I love to lose my virginity."

Astounded, the girl replies, "So you really love me?"

"Oh God no!", the guy says. "I just got sick of waiting."