(The Newest Jokes will always be placed on Jokes'nStuff 1)
A man and a woman are riding next to each other in first class on a plane. The woman sneezes, then takes a tissue and gently wipes it between her legs.
The man isn't sure he saw what she did, and decides he is probably hallucinating.
A few minutes pass. The woman sneezes again. She takes a tissue and gently wipes it between her legs.
The man is about to go nuts. He can't believe that he's seeing what he's seeing.
A few more minutes pass. The woman sneezes yet again. She takes a tissue and gently wipes it between her legs yet again.
The man has finally had all he can handle.
He turns to the woman and says, "Three times you've sneezed, and three times you've taken a tissue and wiped it between your legs! What kind of signals are you sending me, or are you just trying to drive me crazy?"
The woman replies, "I am sorry to have disturbed you, sir. I have a rare condition such that when I sneeze, I have an orgasm."
The man, now feeling bad, says, "Oh, I'm sorry. What are you taking for it?"
The woman looks at him and says, "Pepper."
Sing a Happy Song For Christmas (mp3)
Oh Bin Laden (a parody on Oh Susannah) (mp3)
Ever wondered what it would be like if Dear Abby was a man?
Dear Mr. Abby:
Q: My husband wants a threesome with my best friend and me.
A: Obviously your husband cannot get enough of you! Knowing that there is only one of you he can only settle for the next best thing - your best friend. Far from being an issue, this can bring you closer together. Why not get some of your old collage roommates involved too? If you are still apprehensive, maybe you should let him be with your friends without you. If you're still not sure then just perform oral on him and cook him a nice meal while you think about it.
Dear Mr. Abby:
Q: My husband continually asks me to perform oral sex on him.
A: Do it. Sperm can help you lose weight and gives a great glow to your skin. Interestingly, men know this. His offer to allow you to perform oral sex on him is totally selfless. This shows he loves you. The best thing to do is to thank him by performing it twice a day, then cook him a nice meal.
Dear Mr. Abby:
Q: My husband has too many nights out with the boys.
A: This is perfectly natural behavior and it should be encouraged. The man is a hunter and he needs to prove his prowess with other men. A night out chasing young single girls is a great stress relief and can foster a more peaceful and relaxing home. Remember, nothing can rekindle your relationship better than the man being away for a day or two (it's a great time to clean the house too)! Just look at how emotional and happy he is when he returns to his stable home. The best thing to do when he gets home is for you and your best friend to perform oral on him. Then cook him a nice meal.
Dear Mr. Abby:
Q: My husband doesn't know where my clitoris is.
A: Your clitoris is of no concern to your husband . If you must mess with it, do it in your own time or ask your best friend to help. You may wish to videotape yourself while doing this, and present it to your husband as a birthday gift. To ease your selfish guilt, perform oral on him and cook him a delicious meal.
Dear Mr. Abby:
Q: My husband is uninterested in foreplay.
A: You are a bad person for bringing it up and should seek sensitivity training. Foreplay to a man is very stressful and time consuming. Sex should be available to your husband on demand with no pesky requests for foreplay. What this means is that you do not love your man as much as you should he should never have to work to get you in the mood. Stop being so selfish! Perhaps you can make it up to him by performing oral on him and cook him a nice meal.
Dear Mr. Abby
Q: My husband always has an orgasm then rolls over and goes to sleep never giving me one.
A: I'm not sure I understand the problem. Perhaps you've forgotten to cook him a nice meal.
She went to the shoe store to try on a new pair of shoes. Sitting down for a fitting, the young salesman, just had to notice that she had no underwear on.
Not being able to help himself, he remarked, "I just can't help saying, lady I would like to fill that up with ice cream and eat it".
she slapped him, went home and told her husband, that he needed to go down there and kick some butt.
He replied, no. She demanded why not? "I will give you three reasons why not"
1. you already have 25 pairs of shoes in the closet, you should not have been there in the first place.
2. I have been trying for years to get you to put on underwear when you go out in public.
3. A SOB that can eat that much Ice Cream is tougher than me, and I ain't going.
For some time many of us have wondered just who is Jack Schitt? We find ourselves at a loss when someone says, "You don't know Jack Schitt!" Well, thanks to my genealogy efforts, you can now respond in an intellectual way.
Jack Schitt is the only son of Awe Schitt. Awe Schitt, the fertilizer magnate, married O. Schitt, the owner of Needeep N. Schitt, Inc. They had one son,
Jack.
In turn, Jack Schitt married Noe Schitt. The deeply religious couple produced six children: Holie Schitt, Giva Schitt, Fulla Schitt, Bull Schitt, and the twins Deap Schitt and Dip Schitt. Against her parents' objections, Deap Schitt married Dumb Schitt, a high school dropout.
After being married 15 years, Jack and Noe Schitt divorced. Noe Schitt later married Ted Sherlock, and, because her kids were living with them, she wanted to keep her previous name. She was then known as Noe Schitt Sherlock.
Meanwhile, Dip Schitt married Loda Schitt, and they produced a son with a rather nervous disposition named Chicken Schitt. Two of the other six children, Fulla Schitt and Giva Schitt, were inseparable throughout childhood and subsequently married the Happens brothers in a dual ceremony. The wedding announcement in the newspaper announced the Schitt-Happens nuptials.
The Schitt-Happens children were Dawg, Byrd, and Hoarse. Bull Schitt, the prodigal son, left home to tour the world. He recently returned from Italy with his new Italian bride, Pisa Schitt.
Now when someone says, "You don't know Jack Schitt, " you can correct them.
Sincerely, Crock O. Schitt
In the dead of summer a fly was resting on a leaf beside a lake.
A hot, dry fly who said to no one in particular, "Gosh...if I go down three inches...I will feel the mist from the water and I will be refreshed."
There was a fish in the water thinking, "gosh...if that fly goes down three inches I can eat him."
There was a bear on the shore thinking, "Gosh...if that fly goes down three inches...that fish will jump for the fly...and I will eat him."
It also happened that a hunter was farther up the bank of the lake preparing to eat a cheese sandwich. "Gosh," he thought, "if that fly goes down three inches...and that fish leaps for it...that bear will expose himself and grab for the fish. I'll shoot the bear and have a proper lunch."
You probably think this is enough activity for one bank of a lake, but I can tell you there was more...
A mouse by the hunter's foot was thinking, "Gosh...if that fly goes down three inches...and that fish jumps for that fly ... and that bear grabs for that fish...the dumb hunter will shoot the bear and drop his cheese sandwich, and I'll eat the sandwich.
A cat lurking in the bushes took in this scene and thought, as was fashionable to do on the banks of this particular lake around lunch time, "gosh...if that fly goes down three inches ...and that fish jumps for that fly ... and that bear grabs for that fish.. and that hunter shoots that bear...and that mouse makes off with the cheese sandwich.... then I can have mouse for lunch."
The poor fly is finally so hot and so dry that he heads down for the cooling mist of the water. The fish swallows the fly...
The bear grabs the fish...
The hunter shoots the bear...
The mouse grabs the cheese sandwich...
The cat jumps for the mouse...
The mouse ducks...
The cat falls into the water and drowns.
The moral of the story is:
Whenever a fly goes down three inches...someone's pussy is bound to get wet.
The Muslim says, "Nice to meet you Peter, but I'm a Muslim and I want to meet Muhammad."
St. Peter says, "Sure no problem. Climb up that ladder behind you and you will meet Muhammad."
The Muslim climbs up the ladder, gets to the top and there is Moses. Moses says "Hi, I'm Moses. Welcome to Heaven."
The Muslim is very excited - "Moses, its such an honor to meet you. But like I told St. Peter, I'm a Muslim and I really want to meet Muhammad."
Moses says, "No problem. Climb up the ladder behind you and you will meet Muhammad."
The Muslim climbs up the ladder, gets to the top, he can't see anything but bright light. He sees this figure before him and asks, "Who are you?"
The figure responds - "I am God. Nice to meet you. Welcome to Heaven." God walks over and shakes his hand.
The Muslim is stunned - he can hardly speak. He says to God "Sir, it is such an honor to meet You - I can't believe it - this place is great. But I'm a Muslim and, no disrespect intended, but I really want to meet Muhammad."
God says "Ohhh... You're here to see Muhammad. I see. No problem. Have a seat. Get comfortable. Can I get you some coffee or something to eat?"
The Muslim says, "I would love a cup of coffee."
God yells into the kitchen, "Hey Muhammad, 2 coffees!!!"
By Ron Kaat.
Last night, sometime around 2 a.m., I was ripped from a peaceful slumber by a shockingly loud noise from the street outside. Alternating between a shrill, piercing whine and a thunderous roar, the sound echoed down the block, rattling my bedroom windows with oceanic waves of internal-combustion fury. As I lay there, unable to fall back asleep, my head and pulse pounding, I could think only one thing: Wow, check out that motorcycle revving!
What is it that makes a revving motorcycle so welcome? Why is this exhaust-choked noise instantly embraced and enjoyed by all who hear it? And what is it about the deafening roar made by the motorcyclist—he of the unmuffled exhaust pipes—that makes him beloved above all others? These are just a few of the questions I pondered during the hours immediately following that motorcycle's early-morning revving.
Inevitably, the answer to each question was always the same: The mere act of sitting astride a stationary motorcycle and manipulating the throttle for the express purpose of creating vast amounts of ear-splitting noise is the most impressive display of power known to man.
Yelling out of cars, turning your speakers out the window to blast your music onto the street, setting off M-80 firecrackers, firing automatic weapons into the air—these are all well and good. But none of them create a merry atmosphere of insouciance and bonhomie quite like a revving motorcycle.
When a man mounts a motorcycle and, instead of merely riding it like a common mortal, chooses to regale everyone within a five-mile radius with the sound of four or five thousand internal-combustion explosions a minute, he is saying something. He is announcing to the world (or at least half the city): "We are all human beings, unique unto the world, and as a human, I will not be bound by the will of the masses. I am a soaring spirit, incapable of being chained, and, by way of evidence, I will provide this threshold-of-pain sonic explosion."
And it works! Last night, up and down my block, people were jolted awake with undeniable proof of that motorcyclist's humanity. The act was deeply moving to each and every one of us ex-sleepers. I'm sure I'm not the only one who found it difficult to go back to bed for a long time, so affected was I by this stirring, transcendent expression of individuality.
That is what I admire most about such motorcyclists: their courage to assert their uniqueness in the most audible, public way possible.
It is such determination to make our individuality heard that sets us apart from the animals. So hallelujah, I say, and let freedom rev.
After the initial embarrassment and uneasiness, they both go to sleep. The man in the upper berth, and the woman in the lower berth.
In the middle of the night the man leans over, wakes the woman and says, "I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm awfully cold and I was wondering if you could possibly reach over and get me another blanket?"
The woman leans out and, with a glint in her eye says, "I have a better idea, just for tonight let's pretend we are married."
The man, thinking this is it, says, "OK. AWESOME!"
The woman says "GOOD..... GET YOUR OWN *%!!*?% BLANKET!"
A large group of Taliban soldiers are moving down a road when they hear a
voice call from behind a sand dune....
"One US soldier is better than ten Taliban"
The Taliban commander quickly sends 10 of his best soldiers over the dune, whereupon a gun-battle breaks out and continues for a few minutes then silence. The voice then calls out.....
"One US soldier is better than one hundred Taliban"
Furious, the Taliban commander sends his next best 100 troops over the dune
and instantly a huge gunfight commences. After 10 minutes of battle, again
silence. The voice calls out again....
"One US soldier is better than one thousand Taliban"
The enraged Taliban commander musters one thousand fighters
and sends them across the dune. Cannons, rockets and machine gun fire ring out as a huge battle is fought. Then silence.
Eventually one wounded Taliban fighter crawls back over the dune and with his dying words tells his commander..... "Don't send any more men....it's a trap....there's two of them"
Jim and Mary were both patients in a Mental Hospital.
One day while they were walking past the hospital swimming pool, Jim suddenly jumped into the deep end. He sunk to the bottom & stayed there. Mary promptly jumped in to save him.
She swam to the bottom and pulled Jim out.
When the medical director became aware of Mary's heroic act he immediately ordered her to be discharged from the hospital, as he now considered her to be mentally stable.
When he went to tell Mary the news he said, "Mary, I have good news & bad news. The good news is you're being discharged because since you were able to jump in and save the life of another patient, I think you've regained your senses. The bad news is, Jim, the patient you saved, hung himself with his bathrobe belt in the bathroom. I am so sorry, but he's dead."
Mary replied "He didn't hang himself, I put him there to dry."