Can a fish get thirsty?
In the English language, the word “pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis” has the most number of syllables at 19.
This narrowly beats out the runner-up, "Gloria" (18 syllables). Source: Catholic Exchange Note: full disclosure, I heard this absolutely glorious (hah!) joke years ago, but when I was retelling it earlier thought of another way to set it up. It's just a grand coincidence that that word in the OP I can barely understand had only one more syllable than "Gloria".
If no one was home, I would just leave a brochure on the kitchen table.
It sounds so foreign.
Because they are neigh-sayers
A woman driving along at speed passed over a bridge only to find a cop with a radar gun on the other side lying in wait.
The cop pulled her over, walked up to the car, with that classic patronizing smirk & asked, 'What's your hurry?' She replied, 'I'm late for work.' 'Oh yeah,' said the cop, 'what do you do?' 'I'm a Rectum Stretcher,' she responded. The cop stammered, 'A what?………… 'A Rectum Stretcher!' 'And just what does a rectum stretcher do?' 'Well,' she said, 'I start by inserting one finger in the rectum, then work my way up to two fingers, then three, then four, then with my whole hand in I work from side to side until I can get both hands in, and then I slowly but surely stretch it, until it's about 6 feet' 'And just what the hell do you do with a 6 foot asshole?' he asked. 'You give him a radar gun & park him behind a bridge…
Then I realized I hadn't turned the TV on.
Me: (handing baby back to him) Bring me the one my wife made
They find a magic lamp. A genie pops out and says I'll grant each of you one wish. First guy: I wish I was off this island! POOF! The guy disappears. Second guy: I wish I was off this island! POOF! The guy disappears. Third guy: It's kinda lonely… I wish those guys were back. POOF! The other two re-appear! Edit: Spelling
“Are you having a crisis?”
They're the reason ice mocha lot of weed
They had been going at it for days, and God was tired of hearing all of the bickering. Finally God said, "Cool it. I am going to set up a test that will run two hours and I will judge who does the better job." So Satan and Jesus sat down at the keyboards and typed away. They moused. They did spreadsheets. They wrote reports. They sent faxes. They sent e-mail. They sent out e-mail with attachments. They downloaded. They did some genealogy reports. They made cards. They did every known job. But ten minutes before their time was up, lightning suddenly flashed across the sky, thunder rolled, the rain poured and, of course, the electricity went off. Satan stared at his blank screen and screamed every curse word known in the underworld. Jesus just sighed. The electricity finally flickered back on and each of them restarted their computers. Satan started searching frantically, screaming "It's gone! It's all gone! I lost everything when the power went out!" Meanwhile, Jesus quietly started printing out all of his files from the past two hours. Satan observed this and became irate. "Wait! He cheated, how did he do it?" God shrugged and said, "Jesus saves."
One of them turns to the other and says "How do you drive this thing?"
How? I took a day off
Daughter: Dad, are you smart? Me: Yes. Daughter: Spell it. Me: S-M-A-R-T Daughter: You said you’re smart but you can’t even spell the word “it.” She got me good.
He can’t keep the lilies alive.
The competition was pretty stiff.
Abe turns to Sol and asks, "Do you think there's baseball in Heaven?" Sol thinks about it for a minute and replies, "I dunno. But let's make a deal — if I die first, I'll come back and tell you if there's baseball in Heaven, and if you die first, you do the same." They shake on it and sadly, a few months later, poor Abe passes on. Soon afterward, Sol sits in the park feeding the pigeons by himself and hears a voice whisper, "Sol… Sol… ." Sol responds, "Abe! Is that you?" "Yes it is, Sol," whispers Abe's ghost. Sol, still amazed, asks, "So, is there baseball in Heaven?" "Well," says Abe, "I've got good news and bad news." "Gimme the good news first," says Sol. Abe says, "Well, there is baseball in Heaven." Sol says, "That's great! What news could be bad enough to ruin that?" Abe sighs and whispers, "You're pitching on Friday."
The only way to pull off a lockdown afternoon 'quickie' with their 8-year old son in the apartment was to send him out on the balcony with a Mars Bar and tell him to report on all the street activities. He began his commentary as his parents put their plan into operation: 'There's a car being towed from the car park,' he shouted. 'An ambulance just drove by!' 'Looks like the Andersons have company,' he called out. 'Matt's out on his bike and his mum is telling him off' 'Looks as if the Sanders are going into full isolation!' 'Jason has had his skate board taken off him After a few moments he announced, 'The Coopers are having sex!!' Startled, his mum and dad shot up in bed! Dad cautiously called out, 'How do you know they're having sex?' 'Jimmy Cooper is standing on his balcony with a Mars Bar' EDIT: HATERS GONNA HATE; REPOSTERS GONNA REPOST. I LOVE Y’ALL!
…It doesn't matter what size, they're all good.
I said "No it doesn't."
But I’m 22 to say it 🙁
“Sixty is the worst age to be,” said the 60-year-old man. “You always feel like you have to pee and most of the time you stand there and nothing comes out.”
"Ah, that's nothing," said the 70-year-old. "When you're seventy, you don't have a bowel movement any more. You take laxatives, eat bran, sit on the toilet all day and nothing comes out!" "Actually," said the 80-year-old, “Eighty is the worst age of all." "Do you have trouble peeing, too?" asked the 60-year-old. "No, I pee every morning at 6:00. I pee like a racehorse on a flat rock; no problem at all." "So, do you have a problem with your bowel movement?" asked the 70-year-old man. "No, I have one every morning at 6:30." Exasperated, they both ask: "You pee every morning at 6:00 and crap every morning at 6:30. So what's so bad about being 80?" "I don’t wake up until 7:00."
The more ohms you have, the greater the resistance…
But I ain’t no snitch.
Everyone was dribbling on it.
But I can stop whenever I want.
Now i’m really scared of arson
I know, it's gross, but we can only cum on prosthetic legs. Anyway, our last three-way with an amputee, we both prematurely came on her real toes! I had to politely ask the girl, "Can we start over? I feel like we got off on the wrong foot."
"How much have you had to drink?" she demanded. "Not much" I slurred. "Look at me!" she shouted, "It's either me or the bar, which one is it?" I paused for a second and said "It's you, I can tell by the voice."
Two priests are fishing on lake outside of Rome. It's a beautiful day, the sun is light, and the water is smooth. Suddenly the first priests fishing rod bends alarmingly; he has hooked a huge fish! It's a struggle but he managed to reel it in. It's a beautiful rainbow coloured fish and big enough to feed a family. "Would you look at the size of that Fucker!" he exclaims, startling the second priest. "Hey, you can't talk like that; you're a man of the cloth. I'm a man of the cloth!" Says the second priest, scandalised. The first priest raises his hands in a calming gesture "It's ok my good fellow, that's the fish's name. It's an Italian Fucker Fish." After breathing a sigh of relief, the second priest is able to appreciate the fish a bit more. "Why don't we cook it for our dinner with the His Holiness the Pope tonight" he says. The first priest agrees, and they go their separate ways, the first priest to return their boat and the second to deliver the fish into the Vatican. Priest number two lobs up at the convent and knocks at the door, a sister answers and he proudly shows her the fish. "Could the mother superior cook this Fucker for our dinner with His Holiness the Pope?" He asks. Scandalising the poor sister. "You can't talk like that!" she says "You're a man of the cloth. I'm a woman of the cloth". "Fret not, dear sister" the priest says "that is the fish's name. It's an Italian Fucker Fish." Mollified the nun agrees to prepare the fish for the mother superior to cook. She scales and guts the fish and then calls on the mother superior. "Mother, I have prepared this Fucker so that you may cook it for our dinner tonight with His Holiness the Pope". Mum superior nearly has a heart attack. "My child" she shrieks "We are women of the cloth. You cannot use such language!" The nun placates the mother by explaining that the fish is an Italian Fucker Fish. And, so assured, she agrees to cook the fish for their dinner with His Holiness. Later that night both Priests, the Nun and the Mother Superior are at dinner with His Holiness the Pope. They remove the silver cover from their meal and serve the fish. The Pope takes a few bites and a sip of wine and states "This fish is fantastic, practically divine" "I caught the Fucker." Says the first priest. "Well I brought the Fucker into the city." Says the second. "I scaled and gutted the Fucker." Says the nun. "And I cooked the Fucker." Says the mother superior. His Holiness takes a look around the table, takes another sip of his wine and says "You know what? You cunts are alright!"
I said, “Don’t cry over skilled MILF.”
Well I know that. How else could you sell it?