A conversation between a country cigar smoker and a city cigar smoker:
City: So what do you like to smoke?
Country: Well, I'm not too fond of Macanudos, don't mind Upmann's and really like the Romeo y Julietas. City: Well, what about My Fathers?
Country: What about your father's?
City: No, My Fathers cigars!
Country: Well, how would I know, I don't know your father, so how would I know what his cigars are like? City: No, that's what their called! My Father cigars.
Country: So your father has some no name cigars? I'd like to try them.
City: OMG!
A conversation between a country cigar smoker and a city cigar smoker:
City: So what do you like to smoke?
Country: Well, I'm not too fond of Macanudos, don't mind Upmann's and really like the Romeo y Julietas. City: Well, what about My Fathers?
Country: What about your father's?
City: No, My Fathers cigars!
Country: Well, how would I know, I don't know your father, so how would I know what his cigars are like? City: No, that's what their called! My Father cigars.
Country: So your father has some no name cigars? I'd like to try them.
City: OMG!
A conversation between a country cigar smoker and a city cigar smoker:
City: So what do you like to smoke?
Country: Well, I'm not too fond of Macanudos, don't mind Upmann's and really like the Romeo y Julietas. City: Well, what about My Fathers?
Country: What about your father's?
City: No, My Fathers cigars!
Country: Well, how would I know, I don't know your father, so how would I know what his cigars are like? City: No, that's what their called! My Father cigars.
Country: So your father has some no name cigars? I'd like to try them.
City: OMG!
A conversation between a country cigar smoker and a city cigar smoker:
City: So what do you like to smoke?
Country: Well, I'm not too fond of Macanudos, don't mind Upmann's and really like the Romeo y Julietas. City: Well, what about My Fathers?
Country: What about your father's?
City: No, My Fathers cigars!
Country: Well, how would I know, I don't know your father, so how would I know what his cigars are like? City: No, that's what their called! My Father cigars.
Country: So your father has some no name cigars? I'd like to try them.
City: OMG!
LOL
That's pretty good. May I add to?
Absolutely!
City. What about Alec Badley?
Country. Don't know HIM either.
City. My Uzi weighs a Ton?
Country. You want me to carry it for ya'?
City. Four Kicks.
Country. Four Kicks?! Looks like you'd a learned not to walk behind THAT horse by the 2nd kick.
City. Victor Sinclair?
Country. Now I'M about to kick you!
One day, little Johny's dad decided it was past time he taught his son how to use the potty
so he calls little Johny into the bathroom to show him just how its suppose to be done
Dad: Ok Johny there are 7 steps to becoming a big boy and using the toilet
Step #1 - unzip your pants
Step #2 - pull out your pee pee
Step #3 - pull back the extra skin
Step #4 - aim right and let loose into the toilet bowl
Step #5 - push back the extra skin
Step #6 - put your pee pee back into your pants
Step #7 - zip your pants back up
TA DA ... That's all there is to being a big boy Johny, from now on whenever you need to go potty you know how to do it like the big boy you are
The next day little Johny's dad happened to be walking down the hall and noticed little Johny duck into the bathroom and shut the door, he decided to go to the door and listen to see if Johny would follow his teachings...
As he was at the door listening all he could hear was little Johny counting off
There was a nice lady, a minister's widow, who was a little old-fashioned. She was planning a week's vacation in California at Skylake Yosemite campground (Bass Lake, to the uninitiated), but she wanted to make sure of the accommodation first. Uppermost in her mind were bathroom facilities, but she couldn't bring herself to write "toilet" in a letter. After considerable deliberation, she settled on "bathroom commode," but when she wrote that down, it still sounded too forward so, after the first page of her letter, she referred to the bathroom commode as "BC."
"Does the cabin where I will be staying have its own 'BC'? If not, where is the 'BC' located?" is what she actually wrote.
The campground owner took the first page of the letter and the lady's check and gave it to his secretary. He put the remainder of the letter on the desk of the senior member of his staff without considering that the staffer would have no way of knowing what "BC" meant. Then the owner went off to town to run some errands.
The staff member came in after lunch, found the letter, and was baffled by the euphemism, so he showed the letter around to several counselors, but they couldn't decipher it either. The staff member's wife, who knew that the lady was the widow of a famous Baptist preacher, was sure that it must be a question about the local Baptist Church. "Of course," the first staffer exclaimed, "'BC' stands for 'Baptist Church." And he sat down and wrote:
Dear Madam,
I regret very much the delay in answering your letter, but I now take the pleasure in informing you that the BC is located nine miles north of the campground and is capable of seating 250 people at one time. I admit it is quite a distance away if you are in the habit of going regularly, but no doubt you will be pleased to know that a great number of people take their lunches along and make a day of it. They usually arrive early and stay late.
The last time my wife and I went was six years ago, and it was so crowded we had to stand up the whole time we were there. It may interest you to know that right now there is a supper planned to raise money to buy more seats. They are going to hold it in the basement of the 'BC.'
I would like to say that it pains me very much not to be able to go more regularly, but it is surely no lack of desire on my part. As we grow older, it seems to be more of an effort, particularly in cold weather.
If you decide to come down to our campground, perhaps I could go with you the first time, sit with you, and introduce you to all the folks. Remember, this is a friendly community."
Two guys walk into a bar, the third one ducks..ba doom chich..
So this guy pays this blond $1000 to paint his porch. Knowing this will take a while he goes inside makes a sandwich and puts on a long movie. 30 min later knock, knock... I'm done!
He walks outside, falls to his knees screaming.. NOOOOOO...NOOOO!!
You dumb ass I said porch not PORSCHE!!
oops ??
One Monday morning Shane the postman was walking through the neighborhood on his usual
route, delivering the mail.
As he approached one of the homes he noticed that both cars were still in the driveway.
His wonder was cut short by David, the homeowner, coming out with a load of empty beer,
wine and spirit bottles for the recycling bin.
'Wow David, looks like you guys had one hell of a party last night,' the Postman commented.
David, in obvious pain, replied, 'Actually we had it Saturday night. This is the first time I have felt like moving since 4:00 oclock Sunday morning. We had about 15 couples from around the neighborhood over for some weekend fun and it got a bit wild. We all got so drunk around midnight that we started playing WHO AM I?'
The Postman thought for a moment and said, 'How do you play WHO AM I?'
Well, all the guys go in the bedroom and come out one at a time covered with a sheet with only the 'family jewels' showing through a hole in the sheet.
Then the women try to guess who it is..'
The postman laughed and said, 'Sounds like fun, I'm sorry I missed it.'
'Probably a good thing you did,' David responded, 'Your name came up 7 times...'
A woman, fresh from her shower, stands in front of the mirror complaining to her husband that her breasts are too small. Instead of characteristically telling her it's not so, he uncharacteristically comes up with a suggestion.
"If you want your breasts to grow, then every day take a piece of toilet paper and rub it between them for a few seconds"
Willing to try anything, she fetches a piece of toilet paper and stands in front of the mirror, rubbing it between her breasts.
"How long will this take?" She asks.
"They will grow larger over a period of years," her husband replies.
She stops.
"Do you really think rubbing a piece of toilet paper between my breasts every day will make my breasts larger over the years?"
Without missing a beat he says: "Worked for your butt, didn't it?"
I went into the confessional box after years of being away from the Church.
Inside I found a fully equipped bar with Guinness on tap.
On one wall, there's a row of decanters with fine Irish whiskey and Waterford crystal glasses.
On the other wall is a dazzling array of the finest cigars and chocolates.
Then the priest comes in. I say to him, "Father, forgive me,
for it's been a very long time since I've been to confession,
but I must first admit that the confessional box is much more inviting than it used to be."
He replies: " You moron, you're on my side."
Comments
City: So what do you like to smoke?
Country: Well, I'm not too fond of Macanudos, don't mind Upmann's and really like the Romeo y Julietas.
City: Well, what about My Fathers?
Country: What about your father's?
City: No, My Fathers cigars!
Country: Well, how would I know, I don't know your father, so how would I know what his cigars are like?
City: No, that's what their called! My Father cigars.
Country: So your father has some no name cigars? I'd like to try them.
City: OMG!
Country. Don't know HIM either.
City. My Uzi weighs a Ton?
Country. You want me to carry it for ya'?
City. Four Kicks.
Country. Four Kicks?! Looks like you'd a learned not to walk behind THAT horse by the 2nd kick.
City. Victor Sinclair?
Country. Now I'M about to kick you!
so he calls little Johny into the bathroom to show him just how its suppose to be done
Dad: Ok Johny there are 7 steps to becoming a big boy and using the toilet
Step #1 - unzip your pants
Step #2 - pull out your pee pee
Step #3 - pull back the extra skin
Step #4 - aim right and let loose into the toilet bowl
Step #5 - push back the extra skin
Step #6 - put your pee pee back into your pants
Step #7 - zip your pants back up
TA DA ... That's all there is to being a big boy Johny, from now on whenever you need to go potty you know how to do it like the big boy you are
The next day little Johny's dad happened to be walking down the hall and noticed little Johny duck into the bathroom and shut the door, he decided to go to the door and listen to see if Johny would follow his teachings...
As he was at the door listening all he could hear was little Johny counting off
Little Johny: 3-5 3-5 3-5 3-5 3-5 3-5 3-5
There was a nice lady, a minister's widow, who was a little old-fashioned. She was planning a week's vacation in California at Skylake Yosemite campground (Bass Lake, to the uninitiated), but she wanted to make sure of the accommodation first. Uppermost in her mind were bathroom facilities, but she couldn't bring herself to write "toilet" in a letter. After considerable deliberation, she settled on "bathroom commode," but when she wrote that down, it still sounded too forward so, after the first page of her letter, she referred to the bathroom commode as "BC."
"Does the cabin where I will be staying have its own 'BC'? If not, where is the 'BC' located?" is what she actually wrote.
The campground owner took the first page of the letter and the lady's check and gave it to his secretary. He put the remainder of the letter on the desk of the senior member of his staff without considering that the staffer would have no way of knowing what "BC" meant. Then the owner went off to town to run some errands.
The staff member came in after lunch, found the letter, and was baffled by the euphemism, so he showed the letter around to several counselors, but they couldn't decipher it either. The staff member's wife, who knew that the lady was the widow of a famous Baptist preacher, was sure that it must be a question about the local Baptist Church. "Of course," the first staffer exclaimed, "'BC' stands for 'Baptist Church." And he sat down and wrote:
Dear Madam,
I regret very much the delay in answering your letter, but I now take the pleasure in informing you that the BC is located nine miles north of the campground and is capable of seating 250 people at one time. I admit it is quite a distance away if you are in the habit of going regularly, but no doubt you will be pleased to know that a great number of people take their lunches along and make a day of it. They usually arrive early and stay late.
The last time my wife and I went was six years ago, and it was so crowded we had to stand up the whole time we were there. It may interest you to know that right now there is a supper planned to raise money to buy more seats. They are going to hold it in the basement of the 'BC.'
I would like to say that it pains me very much not to be able to go more regularly, but it is surely no lack of desire on my part. As we grow older, it seems to be more of an effort, particularly in cold weather.
If you decide to come down to our campground, perhaps I could go with you the first time, sit with you, and introduce you to all the folks. Remember, this is a friendly community."
My cigar got all Michael Pineda because the draw on it was so tight.
New meaning to chaos theory.
The 87-year-old had just finished his morning jog and wasn't even short of breath.
The 80-year-old was amazed at the guy's stamina and asked him what he did to have so much energy.
The 87-year-old said, "Well, I eat rye bread every day. It'll make your energy level high and you'll have great stamina with the ladies."
So, on the way home the 80-year-old stopped at the bakery. As he was looking around, the sales lady asked if he needed any help.
He said, "Do you have any rye bread?"
She said, "Yes, there's a whole shelf of it. Would you like some?"
He said, "I want five loaves."
She said, "My goodness, five loaves! By the time you get to the 3rd loaf, it'll be hard."
He replied, "I can't believe everybody knows about this shlt but me."
As he approached one of the homes he noticed that both cars were still in the driveway.
His wonder was cut short by David, the homeowner, coming out with a load of empty beer, wine and spirit bottles for the recycling bin.
'Wow David, looks like you guys had one hell of a party last night,' the Postman commented.
David, in obvious pain, replied, 'Actually we had it Saturday night. This is the first time I have felt like moving since 4:00 oclock Sunday morning. We had about 15 couples from around the neighborhood over for some weekend fun and it got a bit wild. We all got so drunk around midnight that we started playing WHO AM I?'
The Postman thought for a moment and said, 'How do you play WHO AM I?'
Well, all the guys go in the bedroom and come out one at a time covered with a sheet with only the 'family jewels' showing through a hole in the sheet. Then the women try to guess who it is..'
The postman laughed and said, 'Sounds like fun, I'm sorry I missed it.'
'Probably a good thing you did,' David responded, 'Your name came up 7 times...'
"If you want your breasts to grow, then every day take a piece of toilet paper and rub it between them for a few seconds"
Willing to try anything, she fetches a piece of toilet paper and stands in front of the mirror, rubbing it between her breasts.
"How long will this take?" She asks.
"They will grow larger over a period of years," her husband replies.
She stops.
"Do you really think rubbing a piece of toilet paper between my breasts every day will make my breasts larger over the years?"
Without missing a beat he says: "Worked for your butt, didn't it?"