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Joke of the day - Add your jokes here

Well, we just past the 6 year mark for this thread. Hopefully the jokes will start getting better soon.
 
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Unless you have an open mind, do not read this



All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent co-workers 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 jump-start 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 go shopping. 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. Poo on seat.
4. Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.
5. No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object 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 an 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. 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 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 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 gaseous 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 poop-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 loud 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 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.​
 
Walking into the bar, I said to the bartender, "Pour me a stiff one, I just had another fight with the wife."

"Oh yeah," he said. "And how did this one end?"

"When it was over, she came to me on her hands and knees."

"Really? Now that's a switch! What did she say"? he asked.

"She said, 'Come out from under that bed, you gutless fecker!!
 
A couple was Christmas shopping at the mall on Christmas Eve and the mall was packed.

Walking through the mall the surprised wife looked up and noticed her husband was no where around and she was very upset because they had a lot to do.

She used her cell phone to call her husband to ask him where he was because she was so upset.

The husband, in a calm voice said, "Honey remember the jewelry store we went into 5 years ago where you fell in love with that diamond necklace that we could not afford and I told you that I would get it for you one day?"

His wife said, crying, "Yes I remember that jewelry store."

He said, "Well I'm in the bar next to it so come and get me when you’re done shopping."
 
Did you know that according to the song, "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer", Santa has twelve reindeer?

Sure, in the introduction it goes "There's Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen..." That makes eight reindeer. Then there's Rudolph, of course, so that makes nine. Then there's Olive. You know, "Olive the other reindeer used to laugh..." That makes ten. The eleventh is Howe. You know, "Then Howe the reindeer loved him..." Eleven reindeer. Oh, and number 12? That's Andy! "Andy shouted out with glee." The proof is in the song!
 
My son's teacher rang me today accusing me of helping him with his sex education homework.

"Bollocks" I said. "What proof have you got?"

"Well Mr. Kay", she replied, "According to Luke, when he was asked where do babies come from, he wrote 'regrettable drunken one night stands'."
 
Paddy goes into a Photo Shop with two photographs, one of his family and one of his old uncle Jack.

He says to the Graphic designer....... "We never got a photo of the whole family with old Uncle Jack in it. Can You put this photo of uncle Jack into my family photo?"

"No Problem says the designer I can Photo shop it in......."

"And can you take his hat off " Says Paddy..." I Never liked it"

"Sure, No problem. But tell me what color hair did he have ?"

Paddy Replies " Sure won't you see that when you take his hat off!!
 
A little girl asked her mother, "How did the human race come about?"

The Mother answered, "God made Adam and Eve; they had children and, so all mankind was made."

A few days later, the little girl asked her father the same question. The father answered, "Many years ago there were monkeys, and we developed from them."

The confused girl returns to her mother and says, "Mom, how is it possible that you told me that the human race was created by God and Papa says we developed from monkeys?"

The Mother answers, "Well, dear, it is very simple. I told you about the origin of my side of the family, and your father told you about his side."​
 
A preacher goes to the dentist for a set of dentures. The first Sunday after he gets his new teeth, he could only talk in the pulpit for five minutes.

The second Sunday, his sermon lasted for ten minutes. The following Sunday, he talked for an hour and 30 minutes. The congregation had to mob him to get him down from the pulpit and they asked him what happened.

The Pastor explains the first Sunday his gums hurt so bad he couldn't talk for more than five minutes. The second Sunday his gums hurt too much to talk for more than 10 minutes. But, the third Sunday, he put in his wife's teeth by mistake and he couldn't shut up.​
 
I run a small restaurant where we often name our specials after our employees, dishes like “Sally's Chicken” after our maitre d who gave us the recipe, and “Rod’s Ribs” after a waiter who had his personal style of barbecue.

One evening after rereading the menu, I broke with this tradition and changed the description of the special we had named after our chef.

Despite her skills and excellent reputation, somehow I didn’t think an entrée named “Salmon Ella” would go over big with our customers.
 
I went to the Patent Office trying to register some of my inventions.
I went to the main desk to sign in and the lady at the desk had a form that had to be filled out. She wrote down my personal info and then asked me what I had invented.
I said, "A folding bottle."
She said, "Okay, what do you call it?"
"A Fottle."
"What else do you have?"
"I have also invented a folding carton."
Again she said "What do you call it?"
"A Farton."
She sniggered and said, "Those are silly names for products and one of them sounds kind of crude."
I was so upset by her comment that I grabbed the form and left the office without even telling her about my folding bucket.
 
I met a magical fairy yesterday who said she would grant me one wish.

"I wish to live forever," I said.

"Sorry," said the fairy, "that is the only wish that I'm not allowed to grant."

"Fine," I said. "Then I want to die the day after Parliament is filled with honest, hard-working, bipartisan men and women who act only in the people's best interests!"

"You're a crafty little bastard," replied the fairy.
 
It takes 7 seconds for food to pass from mouth to stomach.
A human hair can hold 3kg.
The length of a penis is 3 times the length of the thumb.
The femur is as hard as concrete.
A woman's heart beats faster then a man's.
Women blink 2 times as much as men.
We use 300 muscles just to keep our balance when we stand.
The woman has read this entire text.
The man is still looking at his thumb.
 
During a commercial airline flight an experienced Air Force Pilot was seated next to a young mother with a babe in arms. When the baby began crying during the descent for landing, the mother began nursing the infant as discreetly as possible. The pilot pretended not to notice, and, upon disembarking, he gallantly offered his assistance to help with the various baby-related items.

When the young mother expressed her gratitude, the pilot responded, "that's a good looking baby, and he sure was hungry!" Somewhat embarrassed, the mother explained that her paediatrician said that the time spent on the breast would help alleviate the pressure in the baby's ears.

The Air Force Pilot sadly shook his head, and in true pilot fashion exclaimed, "And all these years, I've been chewing gum."​
 
Last night I ordered a glass of wine with my dinner and the waiter asked for my ID. I replied do I look that young. The waiter replied no I just want to see if you qualify for the senior citizen discount.
 
Pocket Taser Stun Gun, a great gift for the wife

A guy who purchased his lovely wife a pocket Taser for their anniversary submitted this:

Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie.

What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized taser. The effects of the taser were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety.​

Way Too Cool!

Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button.​

Nothing! I was disappointed.

I learned, however, that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs.​

Awesome!!!

Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-A batteries, right?

There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target.

I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat.

But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised.​

Am I wrong?

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and taser in another.

The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.

All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5' long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and (loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, 'no possible way!'

What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best ...?

I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, 'don't do it dipshit,' reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny little ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad.

I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and ..

Holy Mother Of God ... Weapons Of Mass Destruction ... What The Hell!!!

I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again.

I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the foetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs?

The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room.

Note: If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a taser, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself!

You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. A three second burst would be considered conservative?​

Son-of-a-bitch, that hurt like hell!!!

A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape.

My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was. My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching.

My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88lbs. I had no control over the drooling.

Apparently I **** myself, but was too numb to know for sure and my sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head which I believe came from my hair.​

I'm still looking for my nuts and I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!!

PS. My wife loved the gift, and now regularly threatens me with it!

'If you think Education is difficult, try being stupid.'
 
I was watching that movie Mad Max,You know that movie where petrol/gas is so rare that people are killing each other for a few litres of it? It was set in the future......
​
I believe it was June.
 
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