Howboute some Jokes.

[vernarial]

I'll try and get more active here folks.....



A man is out driving happily along in his car late one Saturday night. Before too long, the cops pull him over. The policeman walks up to the man and asks, “Have you been drinking, sir?”

“Why? Was I weaving all over the road?” the man answered.

“No,” replied the policeman, “you were driving splendidly. It was the ugly fat chick in the passenger seat that gave you away.”

[vernarial]

During a long rain delay, a baseball color commentator decides to kill some time by sharing a little trivia with the play-by-play announcer.

“I’ll bet you don’t know who hit the most home runs between 1955 and 1975,” the color man says.

“Everyone knows that,” says the announcer. “Hank Aaron.”

“How about who had the most RBI’s between 1955 and 1975?”

“Easy,” says the announcer. “Hank Aaron again.”

“OK, here’s a harder one. Know who got hit on the chin with the most balls between 1955 and 1975?”

“I’m not sure on that one, but I’m guessing Hank Aaron.”

“Nope,” says the color man. “Liberace.”

[vernarial]

Tyrone asked his work buddy Robert one morning, "Man, why you always so damn happy when you come to work every day?"

Robert replied, "That's because I make love to my
wife every morning before work."

Amazed, Tyrone asked him how he gets his wife to
make love to him every morning.

That's easy," Robert said. "I just tell her this little poem that I made up. She loves it! It goes like this: "Blond hair, blond hair, eyes so blue... I love waking up and making love to you!"

Tyrone amazed said, "Man, you white guys is so dang sentimental and shit...." So he decided it wouldn't hurt to give it a try. He spent the rest of the day thinking up a poem for his wife.

The next day Tyrone showed up to work just all beat to hell; bruised eyes, broken nose, fat lip, the works.

Robert asked, "Man, what happened to you?!"

Tyrone said, "I don't know, man. I went home and
tried your advice that's all. I just told her a poem...

"Well, what poem did you tell her?"

Tyrone told him: "Nappy head, nappy head, eyes like a frog... If I could roll your fat ass over, I'd do you like a dog."

[Cirga]

Very man.. that was awesome


Good to see you around again mate.

[vernarial]

Oh I still visit, buddy. I just have too many projects going on at once, so I haven't had the time to post too much. I still try and visit daily. I am still quite regular here, at Zope, at UTC, and at my own forum..


Two bored casino dealers are waiting at a craps table when a hot blonde walks up and bets $20,000 on a single roll of the dice.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she says to the two men, “but I feel much luckier when I’m completely nude.” She strips naked and rolls the dice.

As the dice come to a stop, she jumps up and down, squealing, “I won, I won!”

She hugs each of the dealers, picks up her winnings and her clothes, then walks away quickly.

The dealers stare at each other for a few minutes until one asks, “What did she roll?”

“Hell, I don’t know,” says the other. “I thought you were watching.”

[~*LdY*LaFFs*~]

ROFLLLLL... hmm, may have to try tht

[vernarial]

A couple is on safari in Africa when the woman is abducted by a gorilla. Two weeks later she’s found naked and alone, crying hysterically.

Her husband asks, “Did that mean ape hurt you?”

“He sure did!” the wife sobs. Four days ago he fled to the hills, and he hasn’t called, he hasn’t written…”

[vernarial]

Old Fred’s hospital bed is surrounded by well-wishers, but it doesn’t look good for him. Suddenly he motions frantically to the pastor for something to write on. The pastor lovingly hands him a pen and a piece of paper, and Fred uses his last bit of energy to scribble a note, then dies. The pastor thinks it best not to look at the note right away, so he places it in his jacket pocket.

At Fred’s funeral, as the pastor is finishing his eulogy, he realizes that he’s wearing the jacket he was wearing when Fred died. "Fred handed me a note just before he died," he says. "I haven’t looked at it, but knowing Fred, I’m sure there’s a word of inspiration in it for us all."

Opening the note, he reads aloud, "Help! You’re standing on my oxygen tube!"

[Cirga]

:rotfl:


Can you say no more funerals for that pastor?

[~*LdY*LaFFs*~]

What's the diff between God and Doctors?
















































God doesnt' pretend he's a Doctor..

[rastagard]

Rush Limbaugh was riding through a plush country side in his black chauffeured limousine. All of a sudden a pig darted out in front of the limo and was instantly killed. Mr. Limbaugh felt really bad and instructed his driver to head up to the closest farm house, find out if they owned the pig and offer to pay for damages.
They soon arrived at front of the farm house and the chauffeur went to the front door. He was escorted inside by the farmer and was gone for over 2 hours.
When he reappeared his clothes were in disarray, he was carrying a brown paper bag, and had the biggest smile on his face that Rush had every seen. Rush demanded to know where the chauffeur had been and what had taken him so long.
The chauffeur reported that he had went to the door, just as instructed, and had told the farmer and his wife what had happened. They invited him in, prepared a fine steak with all the fixins' for him.
Then they took him upstairs to meet their 24 year old daughter who was a finalist in the Miss America Pageant. They left him with the daughter to have wild sex for an hour.
When he came back downstairs the farmer's wife had baked chocolate chip cookies and had given him the brown bag full of fresh hot cookies, then they sent him on his way.
"Wow!" exclaimed Rush. "What the hell did you tell them?"
"Well..." replied the chauffeur, sheepishly. "I just told them that I was Rush Limbaugh's chauffeur and I had just killed the pig."

[vernarial]

ROTFLMAO!!!
That was great Rasta!

[Cirga]

Another great one.. LOL thanks rasta man

[rastagard]

Virginia, playing a round golf one Saturday morning, watched in horror as her ball headed directly toward a foursome of men playing the next hole.

The errant golf ball struck one of the men. He immediately clasped his hands together at his crotch, fell to the ground and proceeded to roll around in evident agony.

Virginia rushed down to the man and immediately began to apologize.

She said, "Please allow me to help. I'm a physical therapist and I know I could relieve your pain if you'd allow."

"Ummph, oooh nnooo, I'll be all right...I'll be fine in a few minutes," he replied breathlessly as he remained in the fetal position, still clasping his hands together at his crotch.

But Virginia persisted, and he finally allowed her to help him.

She gently took his hands away and laid them to the side, loosened his pants, and put her hands inside his crotch. She then began to massage him vigorously.

Virginia then asked him, "How does that feel?"

Obviously quite aroused, he replied, "It feels great, but my thumb still hurts like hell!"

[~*LdY*LaFFs*~]

I hate to be the one to defy sacred myth, but I believe he's a she. Think about it. Christmas is a big, organized, warm fuzzy, nurturing social deal, and I have a toUgh time believing a guy could possibly pull it all off!

For starters, the vast majority of men don't even think about selecting gifts until Christmas Eve. It's as if they are all frozen in some kind of Ebenezerian Time Warp until 3:00 P.M. on December 24th, when they - with amazing calm - call other errant men and plan for a last-minute shopping spree.

Once at the mall, they always seem surprised to find only Ronco products, socket wrench sets, and mood rings left on the shelves. You might think this would send them into a fit of panic and guilt, but NO! Men tell me it's an enormous relief because it lessens the 11th hour decision-making burden.

On this count alone, I'm convinced that Santa is a woman! Surely if he were a man, everyone in the universe would wake up on Christmas morning to find a rotating musical Chia Pet under the tree, still in the bag.

Another problem for a he-Santa would be getting there. First of all, there would be no reindeer because they would all be dead, gutted, and strapped on the rear bumper of the sleigh amid wide eyed, desperate claims that buck season had been extended. Blitzen's rack would already be on the way to the taxidermist.

Even if the male Santa DID have reindeer, he'd still have transportation problems, because he would inevitably get lost up there in the snow and clouds and then refuse to stop and ask for directions.

Add to this the fact that there would be unavoidable delays in the chimney, where the Bob Vila-like Santa would stop to inspect all the bricks in the flue. He would also need to check for carbon monoxide fumes in every gas fireplace, and get under every Christmas tree that is crooked to straighten it to a perfectly upright 90-degree angle.

Other reasons that Santa can't possibly be a man include the following:
- Men can't pack a bag.
- Men would rather be dead than caught wearing red velvet.
- Men would feel their masculinity threatened having to be seen with all those elves.
- Men don't answer their mail.
- Men would refuse to allow their physique to be described even in jest as anything remotely resembling a "bowlful of jelly".
- Men aren't interested in stockings unless somebody's wearing them.
- Finally, being responsible for Chirstmas would require a commitment.

I can buy the fact that other mythical holiday characters are men:
- Father Time shows up once a year unshaven and looking ominous - definitely a guy!
- Cupid flies around carrying weapons.
- Uncle Sam is a politician who likes to point fingers.
Any one of these individuals could pass the testosterone screening test

But NOT St. Nick. Not a chance.

I just wish SHE'D quit dressing like a guy!