Camouflage clothing is so ugly…

We all make fun of them, but when we’re inside one at 4am we’re glad they’re around.

 A snooker table

Sailor: Captain! Captain!   Captain: Yes Sailor?   Sailor: I think we have 3 gay sailors on board!   Captain: How would you even know that?   Sailor: Well I sucked Jimmy's dick and it tasted like shit.

The resort doctor taps on his stomach a few times, listening with a stethoscope. Then he tells the man, "Come back tomorrow with a banana and a cookie." "Ummm… okay…" the guy says, skeptical. "What for?" "Do you want my help, or don't you!?" the doctor says. "Just do what I tell you!" So the guy leaves and comes back the next day with a banana and a cookie. He tells the doctor his stomach pain is even worse. The doctor tells him to drop his pants and bend over. The guy does. Next thing you know, the doctor is shoving the banana up his ass. "The hell do you think you're doing!?" the man screams. "You want my help, or don't you?" His stomach is aching, so he clenches his fists and lets the doc proceed. The doctor shoves the banana all the way up his ass. And then looks at his watch for ten minutes. Then she shoves the cookie up his the man's ass too. The man is shaking badly from pain. The doctor tells him to come back tomorrow and bring a banana and a cookie. "Again!?" "You want my help, or don't you?" So the guy goes away and comes back the next day with a banana and a cookie. The exact same thing happens. This time the man is shaking and crying by the end of it. The doctor tells him to come back the next day with a banana and a cookie. "You want my help or don't you?" the doctor says, cutting off the man's protests. So once again, the guy returns, and gets a banana, and ten minutes later, a cookie shoved up his ass. He's sobbing by the end of it. But this time the doctor tells him, "Tomorrow, bring a banana and a hammer." "Oh God! What the hell are you going to do to me now!?" the man says, and he leaves sobbing. But the next day, he returns with a banana and a hammer. The doctor tells him to drop his pants, and once again he shoves the banana up the man's ass. Then he waits. Ten minutes later, the tapeworm pops his head out of the man's butthole. "Hey! Where the fuck's my cookie!?" BAM!

A classic in honor of my cake day! John is at home watching a football game when his wife interrupts, "Honey, could you fix the light in the hallway? It's been flickering for weeks now". He looks at her and says angrily, "Fix the lights now? Does it look like I have GE written on my forehead? I don't think so". "Fine", the wife sighs, "Well then, could you fix the fridge door? It won't close right". To which John replied, "Fix the fridge door? Does it look like I have Kenmore written on my forehead? I don"t think so". "Fine", she says "then you could at least fix the steps to the front door? They are about to break" "I'm not a carpenter and i don"t want to fix steps" he says, "does it look like I have Ace Hardware written on my forehead? I don't think so, I've had enough of you. I'm going to the bar!" So John goes to the bar and drinks for a couple of hours. He starts to feel guilty about how he treated his wife, and decides to go home. As he walks into the house, he notices that the steps are already fixed. As he enters the house, he sees the hall light is working. As he goes to get a beer, he notices the fridge door is fixed. "Honey", he asks, "How did all this get fixed?" John's wife replied, "Well, when you left I sat outside and cried. Just then a nice young man asked me what was wrong, and I told him. He offered to do all the repairs, and all I had to do was either go to bed with him or bake a cake". John asked, "So what kind of cake did you bake?" She replied, "hellooooo.. Do you see Betty Crocker written on my forehead? I don't think so!"

After that, we never played Monopoly with him again.

His dad replies, “Well, you’re my son – I’m confident about that. And your best friend Jimmy is also my son – that’s confidential.”

My next trip to the bathroom could spell disaster.

An ARRRgument with his wife

Stamp – licky-sticky Defibrillator – hearty-starty Bumble bee – fuzzy-buzzy Fork – stabby-grabby Socks – feety-heaties Nightmare – screamy-dreamy Tennis racket – stringy-swingy Cactus – pricky-sticky Squid – squishy-fishy Horror film – thrashy-slashy Whisky – stinky-drinky Wasp – stingy-wingy Parrot – wordie-birdie Auto-correct – writey-righty Lifejacket – boaty-coaty

Nice shirt. Wow. A second nice shirt. OK, first shirt again. He has two shirts.

They order a couple of drinks and take subs out of their brief cases. They begin to eat. Seeing this, the angry publican exclaims, " Excuse me but you cannot eat your own sandwiches in here!" The two look at each other, shrug, then exchange sandwiches.

If you leave yogurt alone for 200 years it develops a culture

M’laria!

T‌‌he p‌‌oster r‌‌eads: "Must b‌‌e a‌‌ble t‌‌o t‌‌ype. M‌‌ust b‌‌e a‌‌ble t‌‌o p‌‌rogram. A‌‌nd m‌‌ust b‌‌e b‌‌ilingual. W‌‌e a‌‌re a‌‌n e‌‌qual o‌‌pportunity e‌‌mployer." The d‌‌og t‌‌akes t‌‌he p‌‌oster i‌‌n h‌‌is m‌‌outh, a‌‌nd w‌‌alks i‌‌n. T‌‌he m‌‌anager s‌‌pots t‌‌he d‌‌og, a‌‌nd d‌‌ecides t‌‌o h‌‌umour i‌‌t, p‌‌ulling u‌‌p a‌‌ c‌‌hair a‌‌nd a‌‌ c‌‌omputer w‌‌ith a‌‌ w‌‌ord p‌‌rocessor. "‌‌Alright, i‌‌f y‌‌ou w‌‌ant t‌‌o w‌‌ork h‌‌ere, y‌‌ou n‌‌eed t‌‌o f‌‌irst w‌‌rite a‌‌ l‌‌etter," a‌‌nd l‌‌eaves t‌‌he r‌‌oom. 30 m‌‌inutes l‌‌ater, h‌‌e c‌‌omes b‌‌ack i‌‌n, a‌‌nd t‌‌he d‌‌og h‌‌as t‌‌yped o‌‌ut a‌‌ c‌‌ompletely e‌‌rror-free l‌‌etter. "Well, I‌‌'ll b‌‌e. T‌‌his i‌‌s a‌‌ s‌‌mart d‌‌og. B‌‌ut c‌‌an h‌‌e p‌‌rogram?", h‌‌e a‌‌sks h‌‌imself. 20 m‌‌inutes p‌‌ass, a‌‌nd t‌‌he d‌‌og h‌‌as m‌‌ade a‌‌ p‌‌erfectly r‌‌unning w‌‌ebsite f‌‌or t‌‌he s‌‌tore. He l‌‌ooks, s‌‌hocked, a‌‌t t‌‌he d‌‌og, a‌‌nd f‌‌inally s‌‌peaks. "‌‌Look, I‌‌ k‌‌now y‌‌ou h‌‌ave t‌‌he q‌‌ualifications, b‌‌ut, w‌‌ell… y‌‌ou're a‌‌ d‌‌og." The d‌‌og n‌‌udges t‌‌he w‌‌ords "‌‌We a‌‌re a‌‌n e‌‌qual o‌‌pportunity e‌‌mployer" o‌‌n t‌‌he p‌‌oster, a‌‌nd t‌‌he m‌‌anager s‌‌ighs. "There's n‌‌o w‌‌ay y‌‌ou're b‌‌ilingual." The d‌‌og l‌‌ooks h‌‌im i‌‌n t‌‌he e‌‌yes, a‌‌nd s‌‌ays, "‌‌Meow."

S. K. P.

There is not one dirty word in this, and it is funny. The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife goodbye and said, "Well, I'm off now; the man should be here soon." Half an hour later, just by chance, a door-to-door baby photographer happened to ring the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. Good morning, Ma'am", he said, "I've come to..'' Oh, no need to explain," Mrs. Smith cut in, embarrassed, "I've been expecting you." "Have you really?" said the photographer. "Well, that's good. Did you know babies are my specialty?" "Well that's what my husband and I had hoped Please come in and have a seat" After a moment she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?" "Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch, and perhaps a couple on the bed. And sometimes the living room floor is fun. You can really spread out there." "Bathtub, living room floor? No wonder it didn't work out for Harry and me!" "Well, Ma'am, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I'm sure you'll be pleased with the results." "My, that's a lot!" gasped Mrs. Smith. "Ma'am, in my line of work a man has to take his time. I'd love to be in and out in five minutes, but I'm sure you'd be disappointed with that." "Don't I know it," said Mrs. Smith quietly. The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of his baby pictures. "This was done on the top of a bus," he said. "Oh my God!" Mrs. Smith exclaimed, grasping at her throat. "And these twins turned out exceptionally well – when you consider their mother was so difficult to work with." "She was difficult?" asked Mrs. Smith. "Yes, I'm afraid so I finally had to take her to the park to get the job done right. People were crowding around four and five deep to get a good look." "Four and five deep?" said Mrs. Smith, her eyes wide with amazement. "Yes", the photographer replied. "And for more than three hours, too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling – I could hardly concentrate, I had to rush my shots. Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just had to pack it all in." Mrs. Smith leaned forward. "Do you mean they actually chewed on your, uh …equipment? " "It's true, Ma'am, yes.. Well, if you're ready, I'll set-up my tripod and we can get to work right away." "Tripod?" "Oh yes, Ma'am. I need to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It's much too big to be held in the hand very long." Mrs. Smith fainted….. …

The rest of the letters come aughter it.