Okay time to liven things up a bit with some jokes!

You hanging out around Elementary schools again Seth? I think I remember that one from back when I was in Elementary school in the early 80's.

 

Hey, it may be old but it's still one of my favorites

 

Back from my home improvement days......

"Did you hear about the new house the lesbians built??

No studs, it's all tongue n' groove. "

 

hahahahahha I'll have to tell that one to my Father-in-Law. He builds home so he'll get a kick out of that one. Wish you had posted this one earlier, I was just up there visiting them this weekend.

 

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 ass 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 for the wife.

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 bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 1 through 5 for your convenience:

1. Occupied.

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

3. Shit smeared on seat.

4. Shit and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.


4. No toilet paper, no stall door, something growing near base of toilet.


Clearly, it had to be Stall #2. I trudged back, entered, dropped trousers and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful Shitter.

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 insane conversation went on and on. Mr. Shitter was blathering to Mrs. Shitter about the shitty 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 ass 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 with 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 the resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.

Once my ass 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 Hell 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 suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"

Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth.

I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force.

Later, in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor.


But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.

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


There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do.

A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw.

I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

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 into 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 managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous shit-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to shit 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.

 

That was you? You ass...that cost me $50 worth of phone insurance.


















j/k

 

hans' Finkers

Hans' Finkers....

Hans vas vorking at the fish plant up nort in Dulut vhen he accidently cut
off all ten of his finkers.

He vent to da emergency room in the Clinik and vhen he got dar da Norsky
doctor looked at Hans and said, "Let's have da finkers and I'll see vhat I
can do."

Hans said, "I haven't got da finkers."
"Vhat do you mean, you hafen't got da finkers?" he said.

"Lord-it's 2007! Ve's got microsurgery and al l kinds of incredible
techniques.

I could hafe put dem back on and made you like new!

Vhy didn't you brink da finkers?"

To vhich Hans says........"How da fock vas I suppose to pick dem up?"

 

Incurable illness

An old bachelor man went to the doctor, who told him that he had an incurable illness and had only a year to live.

So the man decided to talk to his pastor. After the man explained his situation, he asked his Pastor if there was anything he could do.

"What you should do is go out and buy an old Dodge Pickup," said the Pastor. "Then go get married to the ugliest woman you can find, and buy yourselves an old mobile home in a small town in Oklahoma."

'Will this help me live longer?"

"No," said the pastor, "but it will make what time you do have left seem like forever."

 

Baseball in Heaven

Two old guys, Abe and Sol, are sitting on a park bench feeding pigeons
and talking about baseball, like they do every day.
Abe turns to Sol and says, "Do you think there's baseball in heaven?"
Sol thinks about it for a minute and replies, "I dunno. But let's make a deal: if I die first,
I'll come back and tell you if there's baseball in heaven, and if you die first, you do the same."

They shake on it and sadly, a few months later, poor Abe passes on. One day soon afterward,
Sol is sitting there feeding the pigeons by himself when he hears a voice whisper, "Sol... Sol..."

Sol responds, "Abe! Is that you?"

"Yes it is, Sol," whispers Abe's ghost.

Sol, still amazed, asks, "So, is there baseball in heaven?"

"Well," says Abe, "I've got good news and bad news."

"Gimme the good news first," says Sol.

Abe says, "Well... there is baseball in heaven."

Sol says, "That's great! What news could be bad enough to ruin that!?"

Abe sighs and whispers, "You're pitching on Friday."







hopefully I haven't posted this before

 

lol

 

Actually, you did on page #3!

 

Air Pressure

Why do men fart more than women?
Because women can't shut up long enough to build up the required pressure.

 

What's the difference between a women's track team and a group of pygmies that belong to Mensa?

The Pygmies are the Cunning Runts.

 

Don't Flirt at the Halloween Party!!
A wife got a terrible headache and told her husband to go to the Halloween party alone.

He, being a devoted husband, protested, but she argued and said she
was going to take some aspirin and go to bed and there was no need for his good time to be spoiled by not going. So he took his costume and away he went. The wife, after sleeping soundly for about an hour, woke without pain and as it was still early, decided go to the party.

As her husband didn't know what her costume was, she thought she would have some fun by watching her husband to see how he acted when she was not with him. So she joined the party and soon spotted her husband in his costume, cavorting around on the dance floor, dancing with every nice "chick" he could and copping a little feel here and a little kiss there.

His wife went up to him and being a rather seductive babe herself, he left his new partner high and dry and devoted his time to her. She let him go as far as he wished, naturally, since he was her husband.

After more drinks he finally whispered a l ittle proposition in her ear
and she agreed, so off they went to one of the cars and made passionate love in the back seat.

Just before unmasking at midnight, she slipped away and went home and put the costume away and got into bed, wondering what kind of explanation he would make up for his outrageous behavior.

She was sitting up reading when he came in, so she asked what
kind of time he had. "Oh, the same old thing. You know I never have a good time when you're not there." Then she! asked, "Did you dance
much?"

He replied, I'll tell you, I never even danced one dance. When I got
there, I met Pete, Bill Brown and some other guys, so we went into the spare room and played poker all evening." You must have looked really silly wearing that costume playing poker all night!" she said with unashamed sarcasm. To which the husband replied, "Actually, I gave my costume to your brother, apparently he had the time of his life

 

hahaha that's even better then I thought it was going to turn out!

 

Yeah i've heard that one but a little different.....like this


"What's the difference between a Soroity and a Stunt show?"

One's a cunning array of Stunts and the other......well

 

Stop me if you've heard this one...

Friday morning, a priest is out fishing as he usually does to catch dinner for that evening. Suddenly he hooks something. It's really big. He fights it for nearly 15 minutes before finally landing the biggest fish he's ever pulled out of that lake. He realizes this fish alone is enough to provide meat for everyone for dinner that evening.

A villager, who happens to be walking by says, "Wow, that's a big son of a bitch!"

The priest, offended by the villager's vulgarity, whirls around. The villager, a quick thinker, quickly said, "Whoa, father, don't get upset! The fish you just caught is actually called a 'Son of a Bitch'! That's the proper name of this species of fish, so it's okay to use that term in this context."

Well the priest bought the story, blessed the villager and went on his way. As he entered the monastery a cardinal met him and inquired, "What do you have there, father?"

The priest, unwrapping the fish, said "I've got a really big son of a bitch!"

Of course he has to explain to the cardinal about the name of the fish. After the explanation is given the cardinal whips out a large knife and says, "Well, let me clean that son of a bitch!"

So he's busy cleaning the fish when Mother Superior happens by. She casually says, "What are you doing, cardinal?"

"I'm cleaning this really big son of a bitch!"

So once again the explanation is tendered. Mother Superior says, "Well, let me cook that son of a bitch!"

So that evening, they just happen to have the Pope in for dinner. Needless to say the fish is on the menu. After eating, the Pope pushes back and looks around the room. "That was the most delicious fish I've ever had! Who was responsible for this sumptuous repast?"

The priest jumps up eagerly and proudly announces, "I caught that son of a bitch!"

The cardinal quickly adds, "I cleaned that son of a bitch!"

Mother superior says, "I cooked that son of a bitch all afternoon using a recipe that's been in my family for generations!"

The pope sits back in his chair and sips from his wine glass for a few moments as he considers what he's heard. Finally he replies.

"You know ... you f**kers are all-right!!!"