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| The joke thread...
Posted: 4/25/2008 12:10:29 PM | hope this isn't a rerun, but in light of the "motorcycle" debates/threads lately.......
Attack Squirrel of Death
I never dreamed slowly cruising through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Studies have shown that motorcycling requires more decisions per second, and more sheer data processing than nearly any other common activity or sport. The reactions and accurate decision making abilities needed have been likened to the reactions of fighter pilots! The consequences of bad decisions or poor situational awareness are pretty much the same for both groups too.
Occasionally, as a rider I have caught myself starting to make bad or late decisions while riding. In flight training, my instructors called this being "behind the power curve". It is a mark of experience that when this begins to happen, the rider recognizes the situation, and more importantly, does something about it. A short break, a meal, or even a gas stop can set things right again as it gives the brain a chance to catch up.
Good, accurate, and timely decisions are essential when riding a motorcycle.at least if you want to remain among the living. In short, the brain needs to keep up with the machine.
I had been banging around the roads of east Texas and as I headed back into Dallas, found myself in very heavy, high-speed traffic on the freeways. Normally, this is not a problem, I commute in these conditions daily, but suddenly I was nearly run down by a cage that decided it needed my lane more than I did. This is not normally a big deal either, as it happens around here often, but usually I can accurately predict which drivers are not paying attention and avoid them before we are even close. This one I missed seeing until it was nearly too late, and as I took evasive action I nearly broadsided another car that I was not even aware was there!
Two bad decisions and insufficient situational awareness, all within seconds. I was behind the power curve. Time to get off the freeway.
I hit the next exit, and as I was in an area I knew pretty well, headed through a few big residential neighborhoods as a new route home. As I turned onto the nearly empty streets I opened the visor on my full-face helmet to help get some air. I figured some slow riding through the quiet surface streets would give me time to relax, think, and regain that "edge" so frequently required when riding. Little did I suspect.
As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it-it was that close.
I hate to run over animals.and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact.
Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels can take care of themselves!
Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing the oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his little beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for "Banzai!" or maybe "Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!" as the leap was spectacular and he flew over the windshield and impacted me squarely in the chest.
Instantly he set upon me. If I did not know better I would have sworn he brought twenty of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light t-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!
Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and leather gloves puttering maybe 25mph down a quiet residential street.and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing.
I grabbed for him with my left hand and managed to snag his tail. With all my strength I flung the evil rodent off the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw.
That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser.
But this was no ordinary squirrel.
This was not even an ordinary pissed-off squirrel.
This was an evil attack squirrel of death!
Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands, and with the force of the throw swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact he landed square on my back and resumed his rather anti-social and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him!
The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was startled to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result. Torque. This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it. The engine roared as the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in, well, I just plain screamed.
Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel torn t-shirt, and only one leather glove roaring at maybe 70mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel and with a demonic squirrel on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.
With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody's tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle, my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little affect against the massive power of the big cruiser.
About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he is a Scottish attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got IN my full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed partway and he began hissing in my face I am quite sure my screaming changed tone and intensity. It seemed to have little affect on the squirrel however.
The rpm's on The Dragon maxed out (I was not concerned about shifting at the moment) and her front end started to drop.
Now picture the large man on the huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very ragged torn t-shirt, and wearing one leather glove, roaring at probably 80mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel's tail sticking out his mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.
Finally I got the upper hand.I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked. Sort of. Spectacularly sort of, so to speak.
Picture the scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork.
Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn t-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing one leather glove, moving at probably 80mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.
I heard screams. They weren't mine...
I managed to get the big motorcycle under directional control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign at a busy cross street.
I would have returned to fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really. But for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. One of them was on his back in the front yard of the house they had been parked in front of and was rapidly crabbing backwards away from the patrol car. The other was standing in the street and was training a riot shotgun on the police cruiser.
So the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway. That was one thing. The other? Well, I swear I could see the squirrel, standing in the back window of the patrol car among shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery, and shaking his little fist at me. I think he was shooting me the finger.
That is one dangerous squirrel.
And now he has a patrol car.
I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made an easy right turn, and sedately left the neighborhood.
As for my easy and slow drive home? Screw it. Faced with a choice of 80mph cars and inattentive drivers, or the evil, demonic, attack squirrel of death...I'll take my chances with the freeway. Every time.
And I'll buy myself a new pair of gloves. | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 4/25/2008 12:21:33 PM | MZ TAKEN!!!
I have tears in my eyes! OMG!!!!!LOL!!!
I even snorted a good one I was laughing so hard!
Good one! | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 5/4/2008 6:43:40 PM | That deserves a payback and this one's just bad enough to do that.
Back when I was in the Navy (Noah had just made fleet admiral) I was billeted on the good ship Venus. We'd just been overhauled and had a weapons upgrade. They'd pulled off the old reliable mangonels and onagers and replaced them with this new fangled cast iron tube on really little wheels.
We were told to pour in a hat full of this stuff that looked like round coal (smelled like sulfur, we used your hat). Then push in a cast iron ball that just fit the tube. Great until we tried this at sea, the ship pitched and the ball rolled back out at our feet. Seaman Schmuck fixed that by wrapping a rag around the ball and shoving it in with an oar (from the oarhouse of course).
Then we were supposed to touch this really smelly, smoldering piece of cotton to a hole in the back of the tube. Well, when we did that all hell broke loose, the ball went one way, the tube another (not very far because of those little wheels, a good thing!), and the whole place was covered in smoke smellier than a burnt skunk. Damn!
We figured out how to use the thing after a few blew up. One knocked Joe Schmuck clear back to the Quarterdeck (we called him Joe Blow after that). All in all, it really wasn't a bad replacement, except the onagers never stunk that bad and the tubes wouldn't toss back messengers. I think it was airmailed messengers I missed the most.
Then some bright boy decided that we needed to keep a supply of the coal stuff and balls on deck by the tube. Well, about the second time we lit the tube, the extra coal stuff blew up too. Chief Queeg was sitting on the box of coal stuff when it went. Took him three days to fall back down to the ship. He landed astraddle the figurehead, roared a few imprecations (morale had dropped), ripped a few new ones (just on general principles) and we stowed the coal stuff below decks.
The balls, however, stayed (sort of). Every time the ship rolled, so would the balls. A couple of us decided to chisel out a few divots in the wooden deck so the balls wouldn't roll so bad. Worked like a charm! Next thing you know, everybody was using the idea. Old bosun McAndrew started calling those holes ball monkeys because they held onto everything they could get, just like his pet snake (I told you he was old!).
Then we noticed that it was damp under our balls, which rotted the wood, and rusted the balls. So we tried fixing a dimpled iron plate to the deck. The balls rusted to the plate (bad situation if you're in a hurry!). Finally we tried a dimpled brass plate. Success!
So there we were, sailing into odd ends of the world, having ourselves a whacking good time. We'd blown and drifted and drifted and blown, colder and colder until we started seeing icebergs. Then pack ice! Damn it was cold! It was so cold (how cold was it?). It was so cold that with the varying rates of contraction between the brass ball monkeys and the cast iron balls we froze the balls right off the brass monkeys. | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 5/5/2008 11:57:59 PM | The European Commission has just announced an agreement whereby English will be the official language of the European Union rather than German, which was the other possibility.
As part of the negotiations, the British Government conceded that English spelling had some room for improvement and has accepted a 5- year phase-in plan that would become known as 'Euro-English'.
In the first year, 's' will replace the soft 'c'. Sertainly, this will make the sivil servants jump with joy. The hard 'c' will be dropped in favour of 'k'. This should klear up konfusion, and keyboards kan have one less letter. There will be growing publik enthusiasm in the sekond year when the troublesome 'ph' will be replaced with 'f'. This will make words like fotograf 20% shorter.
In the 3rd year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where! more komplikated changes are possible.
Governments will enkourage the removal of double letters which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling.
Also, al wil agre that the horibl mes of the silent 'e' in the languag is disgrasful and it should go away.
By the 4th yer people wil be reseptiv to steps such as replasing 'th' with 'z' and 'w' with 'v'.
During ze fifz yer, ze unesesary 'o' kan be dropd from vords kontaining 'ou' and after ziz fifz yer, ve vil hav a reil sensi bl riten styl.
Zer vil be no mor trubl or difikultis and evrivun vil find it ezi tu understand ech oza. Ze drem of a united urop vil finali kum tru.
Und efter ze fifz yer, ve vil al be speking German like zey vunted in ze forst plas. | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 5/6/2008 12:14:18 AM | SoCal Hans,
That joke is from a pen marksman but how would you tell it in public? | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 5/6/2008 12:18:58 AM | ^^^^I can talk like that. So there is no problem^^^^
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 5/6/2008 4:58:41 AM | This guy walks into a bar. Orders a drink and looks around. Nothing going on so he decides to leave, he removes his wallet and pays his tab. The bartender notices the guys wallet and says "nice wallet," "where in the world did you get such a wallet?"
The guy says he had it specially made. "Wow, " says the bartender, "how do I get one?"
" Well, " the guys says "I could make you one. " You see I'm a peter skin doctor."
"I circumcise baby boys and keep their peter skins." " I then have them made into wallets."
"Wow, what a great idea" says the bartender.
" oh that's nothing " says the peter skin guy, "if you rub it once or twice the wallet turns into a suit case."
I know, don't quit my day job.  | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 5/6/2008 12:46:46 PM | After he was dead, a Cajun discovered himself in Hell. He looked around awhile, then went right to work shoveling brimstone. The devil came up to him and said, "How you like it here, my friend? It's hard work and it's hot, yeah?"
The Cajun just smiled and answered, "It not so bad. The work is steady. I got no problem with steady work. And it ain't so hot. You think this is hot? Man, I'm from south Lousiana --- It hot there, my fren! This ain't nothing." He just laughed and went back to work singing and having a high old time.
Satan, being a former Texan, did not like Cajuns. He said to himself, "I'll get him. So he don't mind the hot, huh?" Satan waved a hand and the whole place was suddenly ice and snow, solid. And he said, "That'll fix dat fool!"
When he went back to check on the Cajun, he found him jumping up and yelling and laughing and clapping and dancing. So Satan said, "Man, what's wrong with you?!"
The Cajun smiled big and replied, "The Saints done won the Super Bowl! | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 5/7/2008 4:36:33 AM | oldies but goodies
from my younger geek years...
http://members.iinet.com.au/~bofh/index.html | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 5/26/2008 3:31:21 PM | Mrs. Donovan was walking down O'Connell Street in Dublin when she met up with Father Flaherty.
The Father said, 'Top o' the mornin' to ye! Aren't ye Mrs. Donovan and didn't I marry ye and yer hoosband 2 years ago?'
She replied, 'Aye, that ye did, Father.'
The Father asked, 'And be there any wee little ones yet?'
She replied, 'No, not yet, Father.'
The Father said, 'Well now, I'm going to Rome next week and I'll light a candle for ye and yer hoosband.'
She replied, 'Oh, thank ye, Father.'
They then parted ways.
Some years later they met again.
The Father asked, 'Well now, Mrs. Donovan , how are ye these days?'
She replied, 'Oh, very well, Father!'
The Father asked, 'And tell me, have ye any wee ones yet?'
She replied, 'Oh yes, Father! Three sets of twins and 4 singles, 10 in all!'
The Father said, 'That's wonderful! How is yer loving hoosband doing?'
She replied, 'E's gone to Rome to blow out yer candle.' | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 5/26/2008 4:37:28 PM | Recently President Bush said each one of us would get a $600.00 tax rebate.
It was previously slated to be $800.00, but they dropped it to a $600.00 tax
rebate because of various budget problems.
Now, if we spend that money at Wal-Mart, all the money will go to China; if
we spend it on computers, most of the money will go to Korea or India. If
we spend it on gasoline it will all go to the Arabs . . . and none of these
scenarios will help the American economy.
We need to keep that money here in America . . . so the only way to keep
that money here at home is to drink beer, gamble, or spend it on
prostitution. Currently it seems that these are the only businesses still
left in the U.S. | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 5/26/2008 5:36:31 PM | Q: Why don't cannibals eat short guys?
A: Because they're bitter.
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A retired gentleman went to the social security office to apply for
Social Security. The woman behind the counter asked him for his
driver's license to verify his age. He looked in his pockets and
realized he had left his wallet at home. He told the woman that he was
very sorry but he seemed to have left his wallet at home. "I will have
to go home and come back later." The woman says, "Unbutton your shirt."
So he opens his shirt revealing curly silver hair. She says, "That
silver hair on your chest is proof enough for me" and sheprocessed his
Social Security application. When he gets home, the man excitedly
tells his wife about his experience at the social security office. She
says, "You should have dropped your pants. You might have gotten
disability too." | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 5/27/2008 5:59:55 PM | A bodybuilder was busy training on the beach when a couple of young girls came running past. He saw this and started posing for them. He showed them his biceps and said, "Ten pounds of dynamite!" And, the girls almost fainted.
Next he showed them his bulging chest and said, "Twenty pounds of dynamite!" And, the girls started screaming.
At this stage the bodybuilder was so full of it, that he desired to show them his legs. He bulged his left leg and suddenly his pants fell down.
One of the girls shouted, "Let's run for it. Look how short his fuse is!" | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 5/29/2008 9:22:23 PM | The Aisle Seat...
Two Radical Arab Terrorists boarded a flight out of London . One took a window seat and the other sat next to him in the middle seat...
Just before takeoff, a U.S. Marine sat down in the aisle seat. After takeoff, the Marine kicked his shoes off, wiggled his toes and was settling in when the Arab in the window seat said, "I need to get up and get a coke."
"Don't get up," said the Marine, "I'm in the aisle seat, "I'll get it for you."
As soon as he left, one of the Arabs picked up the Marines shoe and spat in it.
When the Marine returned with the coke, the other Arab said, "That looks good, I'd really like one too."
Again, the Marine obligingly went to fetch it.
While he was gone the other Arab picked up the Marines other shoe and spat in it.
When the Marine returned, they all sat back and enjoyed the flight.
As the plane was landing, the Marine slipped his feet into his shoes and knew immediately what had happened.
"Why does it have to be this way?" he asked. "How long must this go on? This fighting between our nations? This hatred? This animosity?
This spitting in shoes and pissing in cokes?" | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 6/1/2008 3:55:27 PM | The 1st kind of sex is called: Smurf Sex.
This kind of sex happens when you first meet someone and you both have sex
until you are blue in the face.
The 2nd kind of sex is called: Kitchen Sex.
This is when you have been with your partner for a short time and you are
so horny you will have sex anywhere, even in the kitchen.
The 3rd kind of sex is called: Bedroom Sex
This is when you have been with your partner for a long time. Your sex has
gotten routine and you usually have sex only in your bedroom.
The 4th kind of sex is called: Hallway Sex.
This is when you have been with your partner for too long. When you pass
each other in the hallway you both say "screw you."
The 5th kind of sex is called: Religious Sex.
Which means you get Nun in the morning, Nun in the Afternoon and Nun at
night. (Very Popular)
The 6th kind of sex is called: Courtroom Sex.
This is when you cannot stand your wife any more. She takes you to court
and screws you in front of everyone.
And last, but not least, the 7th kind of sex is called: Social Security Sex.
You get a little each month. But not enough to live on. | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 6/26/2008 11:35:32 AM | Big People Words
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A group of Kindergartners were trying very hard to become accustomed to the first grade.
The biggest hurdle they faced was that the teacher insisted on NO baby
talk! 'You need to use 'Big People' words,' she was always reminding
them.
She asked Chris what he had done over the weekend. 'I went to visit my
Nana.'
'No, you went to visit your GRANDMOTHER. Use 'Big People' words!'
She then asked Mitchell what he had done. 'I took a ride on a choo choo.'
She said 'No, you took a ride on a TRAIN. You must remember to use 'Big
People' words.'
She then asked little Alec what he had done. 'I read a book,' he
replied.
'That's WONDERFUL!' the teacher said. 'What book did you read?'
Alec thought real hard about it, then puffed out his chest with great
pride,
and said, 'Winnie the SHYT.' | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 6/27/2008 7:15:23 PM | Ok. My contribution:
The stuttering cat
A teacher is explaining to her 1st grade students that human beings are the
only animals that stutter.
A little girl raised her hand. 'I had a kitty-cat who stuttered', she
volunteered. The teacher, knowing how precious some of these stories could
become, asked the girl to describe the incident.
'Well', she began, 'I was in the back yard with my kitty and the Pit bull
that lives next door got a running start and before we knew it, he jumped
over the fence into our yard!'
'That must have been scary', said the teacher.
'It sure was', said the little girl. 'My kitty raised his back, went 'Fffff, Fffff, Fffff'.... And
before he could say 'Fu*k', the Pit bull ate him. | |
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Dan!!
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Joined: 6/17/2008
Msg: 93 | |
| The joke thread...
Posted: 6/30/2008 6:00:53 PM | A Priest, a Minister, and a Rabbi walk into a bar...
...the bartender looks up and asks: "What is this, some kind of a joke?"
_________________________________________________
What do you get when you cross the Atlatic Ocean with the Titanic?
'bout half way... | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 6/30/2008 8:36:18 PM | Mickey Mouse went to divorce court. The judge stared down at Mickey and said, "Mr. Mouse, I can't grant you a divorce just because Minnie is crazy?!"
Mickey replied, "I didn't say she was crazy, I said she was F***ing GOOFY! | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 8/7/2008 10:32:27 PM | In the year 2006, the Lord came unto Noah, who was now living in the United States, and said, "Once again, the earth has become wicked and over-populated, and I see the end of all flesh before me.
Build another Ark and save 2 of every living thing along with a few good humans."
He gave Noah the blueprints, saying, "You have 6 months to build the Ark before I will start the unending rain for 40 days and 40 nights."
Six months later, the Lord looked down and saw Noah weeping in his yard - but no Ark.
"Noah!" He roared, "I'm about to start the rain! Where is the Ark?"
"Forgive me, Lord," begged Noah, "but things have changed. I needed a building permit. I've been arguing with the inspector about the need for a sprinkler system. My neighbors claim that I've violated the neighborhood zoning laws by building the Ark in my yard and exceeding the height limitations. We had to go to the Development Appeal Board for a decision.
Then the Department of Transportation demanded a bond be posted for the future costs of moving power lines and other overhead obstructions, to clear the passage for the Ark's move to the sea. I told them that the sea would be coming to us, but they would hear nothing of it.
Getting the wood was another problem. There's a ban on cutting local trees in order to save the spotted owl. I tried to convince the environmentalists that I needed the wood to save the owls - but no go!
When I started gathering the animals, an animal rights group sued me.
They insisted that I was confining wild animals against their will. They argued the accommodation was too restrictive, and it was cruel and inhumane to put so many animals in a confined space.
Then the EPA ruled that I couldn't build the Ark until they'd conducted an environmental impact study on your proposed flood.
I'm still trying to resolve a complaint with the Human Rights Commission on how many minorities I'm supposed to hire for my building crew.
Immigration and Naturalization are checking the green-card status of most of the people who want to work.
The trades unions say I can't use my sons. They insist I have to hire only Union workers with Ark-building experience.
To make matters worse, the IRS seized all my assets, claiming I'm trying to leave the country illegally with endangered species.
So, forgive me, Lord, but it would take at least 10 years for me to finish this Ark."
Suddenly the skies cleared, the sun began to shine, and a rainbow stretched across the sky. Noah looked up in wonder and asked, "You mean you're not going to destroy the world?"
"No," said the Lord. "The government beat me to it." | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 8/8/2008 4:41:07 PM | I'll post some short and sweat jokes.Some I made up others are old a shit.
Q>How many beans does it take to make a burrito?
A>Just one at taco bell.
Q>What do you call a file for your toes?
A>A pedifile.
Q>What does a blonde and a turtle have in common?
A>Once their on their backs their both phuked
Umm i'm drawing a blank here so thats all I got for now. | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 8/8/2008 9:40:42 PM | A MISMATCHED PAIR OF GLOVES
A young man wished to purchase a present for his sweetheart and after careful consideration he decided on a pair of gloves. Accompanied by his sweetheart's sister, he went to a department store and bought a pair of white gloves. The sister purchased a pair of panties for herself. During the wrapping the items got mixed up. The sister got the gloves and the sweetheart got the panties. Without checking the contents, he sealed the package and sent it to her with this note.
Dearest Darling,
This is a little gift to show you I have not forgotten your birthday. I chose these because I noticed that you are not in the habit of wearing any when we go out of an evening. If it had not been for your younger sister, I would have chosen the long ones with buttons, but she wears the short ones that are very easy to remove. These are a delicate shade, but the lady I bought them from showed me a pair she had been wearing for three weeks and they were hardly soiled. I wish I could put them on you for the first time. No doubt other men's hands will come in contact with them before I have a chance to see you again.
When you take them off, blow in them before putting them away as they will naturally be a little damp from wearing. Be sure to keep them on when you clean them or they might shrink. I hope you will like them and will wear them for me on Friday night.
All My Love
P.S. Just think how manytimes I will kiss them during the coming year. Also, the latest style is to wear them folded down with the fur showing. | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 8/10/2008 11:35:04 PM | How phucking funny! I laughed my fluking lass off!
I am not saying Paris Hilton is dumb, but she walked into a Library, with her lil' purse pooch, and said,"We would like 2 cheeseburgers please!"
The Librarian whispered, "Miss, this is a library."
Paris whispered, "Sorry, we would like 2 cheeseburgers please." | |
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 8/11/2008 9:38:25 AM | I was just sent the following...
Prepare now for the Beijing Olympics.
Learn Chinese in 5 minutes (You MUST read them aloud)
English Chinese
That's not right! Sum Ting Wong
Are you harbouring a fugitive? Hu Yu Hai Ding
See me ASAP Kum Hia Nao
Stupid Man Dum Fuk
Small Horse Tai Ni Po Ni
Did you go to the beach? Wai Yu So Tan
I bumped into a coffee table! Ai Bang Mai Fu Kin Ni
I think you need a face lift! Chin Tu Fat
It's very dark in here! Wai So Dim
I thought you were on a diet! Wai Yu Mun Ching
This is a tow away zone! No Pah King
Our meeting is scheduled for next week Wai Yu Kum Nao
Staying out of sight Lei Ying Lo
He's cleaning his automobile Wa Shing Ka
Your body odour is offensive Yu Stin Ki Pu
Great Fa Kin Su Pa
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| The joke thread...
Posted: 8/11/2008 10:00:59 AM | A bubble-gum-chewing blond arrives for her hair appointment with the absolutely FAB stylist 'Ma-DAN-na' to get her hair styled and proceeds to sit down in the chair wearing her headphones. While she’s talking with the stylist, she lifts one side of the headphone so she can hear him and then puts them back.
Ma-DAN-na taps her on the shoulder and explains that she will have to remove the headphones while he is cutting her hair. They are $700 shears and he cannot afford to have them nicked by the metal to her headphones.
The blond immediately looks up to him with her huge blue eyes, which begin brimming with tears and exclaims: “No! I cannot. These are my very life!”
The hairstylist, completely floored by her claims lifts her right ear piece to her head phone and says: “Ok dear. Calm down. I will see how I can do.”
He starts cutting away in lightening speed and thunk! His $700 shears hit the metal and he lets out a small scream. He immediately inspects his shears and sees only slight damage, but once again asks the blond to remove the head phones.
She is just as tearful, but her pleas to leave them on are more urgent: “You just could never know how these headphones are my life. I HAVE to wear them. Can’t you try and be more careful?”
Ma-DAN-na, breathes in an exasperated sigh and is quickly losing his patience with this silly, silly girl, but decides to give it one more try and tightly smiles at her and nods ok.
As he is snipping away and working his styling magic, his shears once again hit the metal of her headphones and he sees that a chunk has been taken out of his $700 shears. He throws the scissors down on the floor and rips the headphones off the blonde girl and she immediately crumples to the floor, gives one last heaving breath, and dies on his salon floor.
He is frightened to death, he immediately gets down on all fours to check her breath and he is screaming for her to wake up and breathe. The blond lies lifeless and he hears some noise coming through the headphones he has thrown to the ground. He crawls over and puts one side to his ear and hears in a steady commanding voice:
“Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.” | |
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