I have cancer, i need a cure

Suddenly, the bar is as silent as a grave. A guy next to the blind man leans over and whispers "Dude, be carefull. The barkeeper is blonde and an ex-soldier. The bouncer is also blonde and the reigning box champion of the city. And then there is Joe… he's just released from prison after he broke a dude's jaw and his two arms. He is blond too. Are you sure you wanna tell that blonde joke?" The blind man takes a minute to think about that, turns on his barchair and says "OK, FINE… I won't tell the joke… I don't have the time to explain that joke at least three times."

Just another good thing ruined by period.

Confused, he approaches his daughter for an explanation of last night when he arrived home. "You kicked in the door when you couldn't get your key in the lock, fell through the table and broke it, and pissed your pants." "Jesus! So then why the hell is she in such a good mood?" "When she tried to take your pants off to wash them, you slapped her hand away and said, 'Get your hands off me! I'm married!'"

Mist.

He is at the Pearly Gates, met by St. Peter himself. However, the gates are closed and Forrest approaches the Gatekeeper. St. Peter says, "Well, Forrest, it's certainly good to see you. We have heard a lot about you. I must tell you, though, that the place is filling up fast, and we've been administering an entrance examination for everyone. The test is short, but you have to pass it before you can get into Heaven." Forrest responds, "It shor is good to be here , St. Peter, sir. But nobody ever tolt me about any entrance exam. Shor hope the test ain't too hard; life was a big enough test as it was." St. Peter goes on, "Yes, I know, Forrest, but the test is only three questions: First: What two days of the week begin with the letter T? Second: How many seconds are there in a year? Third: What is God's first name?" Forrest leaves to think the questions over. He returns the next day and sees St. Peter who waves him up and says, "Now that you have had a chance to think the questions over, tell me your answers." Forrest says, "Well, the first one — which two days in the week begin with the letter "T"? Shucks, that one's easy. That'd be Today and Tomorrow." The Saint's eyes open wide and he exclaims, "Forrest, that's not what I was thinking, but you do have a point, and I guess I didn't specify, so I'll give you credit for that answer. How about the next one?" asks St. Peter. "How many seconds in a year?" "Now that one's harder," says Forrest, "but I thunk and thunk about that and I guess the only answer can be twelve." Confounded, St. Peter says, "Twelve? Twelve!? Forrest, how in Heaven's name could you come up with twelve seconds in a year?" Forrest says "Shucks, there's gotta be twelve: January 2nd, February 2nd,March 2nd. . ." "Hold it, " interrupts St. Peter. "I see where you're going with this, and I see your point, though that wasn't quite what I had in mind…..but I'll have to give you credit for that one, too. Let's go on with the third and final question. Can you tell me God's first name"? "Sure" Forrest replied, "its Andy." Andy?!" exclaimed an exasperated and frustrated St. Peter. "Ok, I can understand how you came up with your answers to my first two questions, but just how in the world did you come up with the name Andy as the first name of God?" "Shucks, that was the easiest one of all," Forrest replied. "I learnt it from the song. . . . "ANDY WALKS WITH ME, ANDY TALKS WITH ME, ANDY TELLS ME I AM HIS OWN. . . ." St. Peter opened the Pearly Gates and said: "Run Forrest, run."

It reads: SISTERS OF ST. FRANCIS HOUSE OF PROSTITUTION 10 MILES He thinks this is a figment of his imagination and drives on without second thought.. Soon he sees another sign which reads: SISTERS OF ST. FRANCIS HOUSE OF PROSTITUTION 5 MILES Suddenly he begins to realize that these signs are for real and drives past a third sign saying: SISTERS OF ST. FRANCIS HOUSE OF PROSTITUTION NEXT RIGHT His curiosity gets the best of him and he pulls into the drive. On the far side of the parking lot is a stone building with a small sign next to the door reading: SISTERS OF ST. FRANCIS HOUSE OF PROSTITUTION He climbs the steps and rings the bell. The door is answered by a nun in a long black habit who asks, 'What may we do for you my son?' He answers, 'I saw your signs along the highway and was interested in possibly doing business….' 'Very well my son. Please follow me.' He is led through many winding passages and is soon quite disoriented. The nun stops at a closed door and tells the man, 'Please knock on this door.' He does so and another nun in a long habit, holding a tin cup answers the door… This nun instructs, 'Please place $100 in the cup then go through the large wooden door at the end of the hallway.' He puts $100 in the cup, eagerly trots down the hall and slips through the door pulling it shut behind him. The door locks, and he finds himself back in the parking lot facing another sign: GO IN PEACE. YOU HAVE JUST BEEN SCREWED BY THE SISTERS OF ST. FRANCIS.

The cornea the better

A man heard that masturbating before sex often helped blokes last longer during the act. The man decided to give it a try. He spent the rest of the day thinking about where to do it. He couldn't do it in his office, but that was too open. He considered an alley, but figured that was too unsafe. On his way home, he pulled his truck over on the side of the highway. He got out and crawled underneath as if he was examining the truck. Satisfied with the privacy, he undid his pants and started to wank. He closed his eyes and thought of his lover. As he grew closer to the big finish, he felt a quick tug at the bottom of his pants. Not wanting to lose his mental fantasy or the orgasm, he kept his eyes shut and replied, "What?" He heard, "This is the police. What's going on down there?" The man replied, "I'm checking out the rear axle, it's busted." Came the reply, "Well, you might as well check your brakes too while you're down there because your truck rolled down the hill 5 minutes ago."

In China some dogs are E-10

And ends up standing in front of the pearly gates. Saint Peter looks at him for a second, flicks through his book, and finds his name. "So, you're a politician…" "Well, yes, is that a problem?" "Oh no, no problem. But we've recently adopted a new system for people in your line of work, and unfortunately you will have to spend a day in Hell. After that however, you're free to choose where you want to spend eternity!" "Wait, I have to spend a day in Hell??" says the politician. "Them's the rules" Says St Peter, clicks his fingers, and WOOMPH, the guy dissapears… And awakes, curled up with his hands over his eyes, knowing he's in Hell. Cautiously, he listens for the screams, sniffs the air for brimstone, and finds… Nothing. Just the smell of, is that fabric softener? And cut grass, this can't be right? "Open your eyes!" says a voice. "C'mon, wakey wakey, we've only got 24 hours!". Nervously, he uncovers his eyes, looks around, and sees he's in a hotel room. A nice one too. Wait, this is a penthouse suite… And there's a smiling man in a suit, holding a martini. "Who are you??" The politician asks. "Well, I'm Satan!" says the man, handing him the drink and helping him to his feet. "Welcome to Hell!" "Wait, this is Hell? But… Where's all the pain and suffering?" he asks. Satan throws him a wink. "Oh, we've been a bit mis-represented over the years, it's a long story. Anyway, this is your room! The minibar is of course free, as is the room service, there's extra towels next to the hot-tub, and if you need anything, just call reception. But enough of this! It's a beautiful day, and if you'd care to look outside…" Slightly stunned by the opulent surroundings, the man wanders over to the floor-to-ceiling windows through which the sun is glowing, looks far down, and sees a group of people cheering and waving at him from a golf course. "It's one of 5 pro-level courses on site, and there's another 6 just a few minutes drive out past the beach and harbour!" says Satan, answering his unasked question. So they head down in the lift, walk out through the glittering lobby where everyone waves and welcomes the man, as Satan signs autographs and cherrily talks shop with the laughing staff. And as he walks out, he sees the group on the golf course are made up of every one of his old friends, people he's admired for years but never met or worked with, and people whose work he's admired but died long before his career started. And out of the middle of this group walks his wife, with a massive smile and the body she had when she was 20, who throws her arms around him and plants a delicate kiss on his cheek. Everyone cheers and applauds, and as they slap him on the back and trade jokes, his worst enemy arrives, as a 2 foot tall goblin-esque caddy. He spends the day in the bright sunshine on the course, having the time of his life laughing at jokes and carrying important discussions, putting the world to rights with his friends while holding his delighted wife next to him as she gazes lovingly at him. Later, they return to the hotel for dinner and have an enormous meal, perfectly cooked, which descends into a food-fight when someone accidentally throws a bread roll at the next table (where Ghandi is having a game of truth-or-dare with Marylin Monroe). As everyone is falling about laughing and flinging breadsticks at each other, his wife whispers in his ear… And they return to their penthouse suite, and spend the rest of the night making love like they did on their honeymoon. After 6 hours of intense passion, the man falls deep into the 100% Egyptian cotton pillows, and falls into a deep and happy sleep… And is woken up by St Peter. "So, that was Hell. Wasn't what you were expecting, I bet?" "No sir!" says the man. "So then" says St Peter "you can make your choice. It's Hell, which you saw, or Heaven, which has choral singing, talking to God, white robes, and so on". "Well… I know this sounds strange, but on balance, I think I'd prefer Hell" says the politician. "Not a problem, we totally understand! Enjoy!" Says St Peter, and clicks his fingers again. The man wakes up in total darkness, the stench of ammonia filling the air and distant screams the only noise. As he adjusts, he can see the only light is from belches of flame far away, illuminating the ragged remains of people being tortured or burning in a sulphurous ocean. A sudden bolt of lightning reveals Satan next to him, wearing the same suit as before and grinning, holding a soldering iron in one hand and a coil of razor-wire in the other. "What's this??" He cries. "Where's the hotel?? Where's my wife??? Where's the minibar, the golf-courses, the pool, the restaurant, the free drinks and the sunshine???" "Ah", says Satan. "You see, yesterday, we were campaigning. But today, you voted…"

… I didn’t like it at first.

It's different to the other jokes.

Apparently the super color fragile lipstick makes the dicks atrocious

“Being 70 is the worst!” The 70 year old exclaims. “Every morning at 7, I wake up to pee, but nothing comes out!”“Oh, that’s nothing!” The 80 year old says. “Each morning at 8, I wake up to poop, and I sit on the toilet for what seems like hours, but nothing comes out!”“Oh, that’s nothing” The 90 year old says. “I have it the worst!”“Can you pee?” The first man asks.“Certainly! Every morning at 7, I pee like a champion.”“Can you poop?” The second man asks.“Yes I can! Each morning at 8, I have a regular bowel movement.”“Then I don’t understand what the problem is!” The first man says.“Well, I wake up at 9!”

Put in my too-weak notice.

*instrument. … darn autocorrect just screwed up my post.

Like bro you were there wtf

During the Battle of Britain, in just one day, he destroyed 8 German aircrafts killing 32 Nazis. Literally the worst mechanic the Luftwaffe ever had.

It reminds me why there’s no money in there.

W.H.O. let the dogs out.

But for mathematicians, it's just right.

It's a good thing my older brother told me about it.

The Italians just introduced it to women

He quiets the audience by raising his hand and then begins to speak… "Uno…" "Dos…" And then he vanished without a Tres.

“So what have you done with your life?” he asks the dog. “I’ve led a very full life,” says the dog. “I lived in the Alps rescuing avalanche victims. Then I served my country in Iraq. And now I spend my days reading to the residents of a retirement home.” The guy is flabbergasted. He asks the dog’s owner, “Why on Earth would you want to get rid of an incredible dog like that?” The owner says, “Because he’s a liar! He never did any of that!”

Edit: four children Second edit: 2 children!

A strange woman answers. The guy says, "Who is this?" "This is the maid.", answered the woman. "We don't have a maid!" "I was just hired this morning by the lady of the house." "Well, this is her husband. Is she there?" "Ummm…she's upstairs in the bedroom with someone who I just figured was her husband." The guy is fuming. He says to the maid, "Listen, would you like to make $50,000?" "What do I have to do?" "I want you to get my gun from my desk in the den and shoot that witch and the jerk she's with." The maid puts down the phone. The guy hears footsteps, followed by a couple of gunshots. The maid comes back to the phone. "What should I do with the bodies?" "Throw them in the swimming pool!" "What pool?" "Uh.. is this 832-4173?"

The teacher isn't there on time. A few minutes passed, and she still hasn't arrived yet. James kinda figured, while the teacher was away, he ought to keep writing his novel he's been working on, about cats. James' dream is to become a big shot writer with the desire to have a best-seller. He's written and sent in books before, but no luck. He's tried written short stories, children's stories, poems, and even a few attempted novels. However, none of those were considered good enough to publish. However, this next story that he has planned, he figures it's gonna be HUGE. It's the story about a runaway cat, told from a first-person view of the cat himself. The cat is supposedly trying to figure out how to return home, and how to survive. After giving it much thought, and after receiving the feedback from the other failed attempts, he decided to put his all into his book. It'll be a smash hit. After about fifteen minutes, the teacher finally shows up to first period. The teacher apologizes, "Sorry, I'm late. My dumbass boyfriend doesn't know how to properly set an alarm clock." Upon hearing those words, a light bulb suddenly went off in James' head. Boyfriend… clock… that's it! That's the perfect story! During class, he decided to try and take notes as to the concept of the book in itself. So far, he has the idea of a guy falling in love with an analog clock, something about how digital clocks are about to go outdated, and that he feels nostalgic by them and doesn't want them to fade away… that's what he's come up with so far. Yeah. A story about a guy that has a sexual relationship with an analog clock. It's a strange story, he knows, but he feels it's quite an original story, to the point where it will definitely put him over the top, WAY more than his cat story he's been working on. Once he gets home, he puts way more time and effort coming up with the characters, the plot details, and so on and so forth. Finally, by the time he has to go to sleep, he's already completed two chapters. A few weeks later, he's already completed the book. He's so excited about what he's written, where he feels like a big shot. He feels this will definitely be the book that brings him to success. It's well-written, has great structure, and he feels that he wrote the main character enough to where you'd actually empathize with his romantic relationship about the clock, and why exactly he wanted to marry the clock in the first place. He titles the book "Holding Hands". He sends it in to the first publishing company. A few days later, he gets a call, saying that it was one of the worst things they've ever read. Feeling distraught by this, he decides to try again with a different publishing company. However, a few weeks later, he's given the exact same statement, that it was terrible. He tries over and over again, but nothing really seems to happen. Finally, he decides to give it one last shot. One more publishing company, and if they reject it, he'll scrap the book entirely and possibly resume the cat story that he originally had his eyes on. He sends it in, and… no one contacts him. Days later, not a word. Weeks pass, months. A few years, even. By this point, James has already graduated high school and went to college for writing. His cat story was also rejected, but hopefully he'll be able to write a masterpiece once he graduates and gets his degree. By now, he's also married and has a child on the way. Suddenly, out of the blue, his phone rings. He couldn't believe it. It was the publishing company from a few years back! He answers the phone. "Hello?" A woman answers, "Hello, is this James?" He affirms. She says to him, "I'm just calling to let you know that we've recently read your book you sent us, "Holding Hands"." He says, "Yeah. It's about fucking time."