Ok

Iran

He sees a black man sitting casually at the side, and is disgusted by the sight of him. He then waves to the bartender and says, "I'd like to order a beer for everyone here except the black guy." As everyone else is treated to a beer, he looks back at the black man in hopes of getting a reaction out of him. The black man still sits casually, this time with a smile on his face. Confused and annoyed, the racist man waves again to the bartender and says, "another round for everyone except that same man." As everyone else enjoys their second beer, the racist man looks back again at the black man, who is still smiling. visibly angered, the racist man calls the bartender over a third time and orders a another round of beer for everyone except the black man. He then looks at the black man one more time, and sees him laughing. Furious, he rushes back to the bartender, points at the black man and asks, "Okay, what the hell is up with this guy?" The bartender then replies, "Oh, you didn't know? He owns this place."

That was my wholemeal.

Absolutely nothing and they quickly parted ways

Every now and then the train passes through a tunnel, during which time the compartment is plunged into complete darkness. On one such occasion, a ringing slap is heard and as the train passes back into daylight, the Frenchman is rubbing his sore, red cheek. The brunette thinks "I bet that dirty Frenchman fondled the blonde and she struck the pervert." The blonde thinks "I bet that filthy Frenchman was looking to grope me in the dark, mistook the dowdy brunette for me and she slapped the beast." The Frenchman thinks "I bet that perfidious Englishman touched up the blonde in the dark and she slapped me by mistake." The Englishman thinks "I can't wait for another tunnel so I can slap that French twat again."

The girl points at the mom’s pubic hair and says “Mommy, what’s that?” The mom, not knowing how to respond, replies “Uh, it’s my washcloth”. The daughter accepts this answer and runs off to play. About two weeks later, the mother finds herself in the same precarious situation. “Mommy! Where did your washcloth go?” the girl says in shock. “I lost it, honey” replies the mom. “Ok!” The daughter says as she darts off. Later that night as the mother is on the couch reading a book the daughter runs in, excited, “Mommy!! Mommy!! I found your washcloth!” “You did?! Where was it??” “The maid has it!” the daughter shouted “And she’s washing daddy’s face with it!”

I went to return it and they gave me another one free of charge.

Typo

Nobody expects the Spanish ink precision.

He makes some really good points.

A pie-thon!

Tracy

21

You killagram

Because if it were served warm, it would be justwater!

No text found

R I P

So a‌‌ v‌‌olunteer p‌‌aid t‌‌he l‌‌awyer a‌‌ v‌‌isit i‌‌n h‌‌is l‌‌avish o‌‌ffice. T‌‌he v‌‌olunteer o‌‌pened t‌‌he m‌‌eeting b‌‌y s‌‌aying, "‌‌Our r‌‌esearch s‌‌hows t‌‌hat e‌‌ven t‌‌hough y‌‌our a‌‌nnual i‌‌ncome i‌‌s o‌‌ver t‌‌wo m‌‌illion d‌‌ollars, y‌‌ou d‌‌on't g‌‌ive a‌‌ p‌‌enny t‌‌o c‌‌harity. W‌‌ouldn't y‌‌ou l‌‌ike t‌‌o g‌‌ive s‌‌omething b‌‌ack t‌‌o y‌‌our c‌‌ommunity?" The l‌‌awyer t‌‌hinks f‌‌or a‌‌ m‌‌inute a‌‌nd s‌‌ays, "‌‌First, d‌‌id y‌‌our r‌‌esearch a‌‌lso s‌‌how y‌‌ou t‌‌hat m‌‌y m‌‌other i‌‌s d‌‌ying a‌‌fter a‌‌ l‌‌ong p‌‌ainful i‌‌llness, a‌‌nd s‌‌he h‌‌as h‌‌uge m‌‌edical b‌‌ills t‌‌hat a‌‌re f‌‌ar b‌‌eyond h‌‌er a‌‌bility t‌‌o p‌‌ay?" Embarrassed, t‌‌he r‌‌ep m‌‌umbles, "‌‌Uh… N‌‌o, I‌‌ d‌‌idn't k‌‌now t‌‌hat." "Secondly," s‌‌ays t‌‌he l‌‌awyer, "‌‌did i‌‌t s‌‌how t‌‌hat m‌‌y b‌‌rother, a‌‌ d‌‌isabled V‌‌eteran, i‌‌s b‌‌lind a‌‌nd c‌‌onfined t‌‌o a‌‌ w‌‌heelchair a‌‌nd i‌‌s u‌‌nable t‌‌o s‌‌upport h‌‌is w‌‌ife a‌‌nd s‌‌ix c‌‌hildren?" The s‌‌tricken r‌‌ep b‌‌egins t‌‌o s‌‌tammer a‌‌n a‌‌pology, b‌‌ut i‌‌s c‌‌ut o‌‌ff a‌‌gain. "Thirdly, d‌‌id y‌‌our r‌‌esearch a‌‌lso s‌‌how y‌‌ou t‌‌hat m‌‌y s‌‌ister's h‌‌usband d‌‌ied i‌‌n a‌‌ d‌‌readful c‌‌ar a‌‌ccident, l‌‌eaving h‌‌er p‌‌enniless w‌‌ith a‌‌ m‌‌ortgage a‌‌nd t‌‌hree c‌‌hildren, o‌‌ne o‌‌f w‌‌hom i‌‌s d‌‌isabled a‌‌nd a‌‌nother t‌‌hat h‌‌as l‌‌earning d‌‌isabilities r‌‌equiring a‌‌n a‌‌rray o‌‌f p‌‌rivate t‌‌utors?" The h‌‌umiliated r‌‌ep, c‌‌ompletely b‌‌eaten, s‌‌ays, "‌‌I'm s‌‌o s‌‌orry. I‌‌ h‌‌ad n‌‌o i‌‌dea." And t‌‌he l‌‌awyer s‌‌ays, "‌‌So, i‌‌f I‌‌ d‌‌idn't g‌‌ive a‌‌ny m‌‌oney t‌‌o t‌‌hem, w‌‌hat m‌‌akes y‌‌ou t‌‌hink I‌‌'d g‌‌ive a‌‌ny t‌‌o y‌‌ou?"

These are the pie rates of the Caribbean

“Thanks,” said the woman, “that means a lot.”

Nothing. The lawyer doesn't have enough human DNA.

Light blue

They're so picky!

It was a brief case Edit: my first silver! Thank you, kind stranger.

i'd have to change my name

​ He's a small medium at large

I just think he's mean

RIP

Cucumber, pickel and a penis meet at a bar. The cucumber says, man my life really sucks! Whenever I get big, fat and juciy, someones going to cut me up and put me in a salad! The pickel says, you think you have it bad, when I got big, fat and juicy, someone poured vinegar and spices on me and threw me in a jar! The penis glaired at both of them and said, you assholes think you have it bad? Whenever I get big fat and juicy someone puts a rubber trap over my head, sticks me in a dark room and bangs my head against the wall until I throw up and pass out!!

Don’t worry about him. He’s just a product of our times.

I have a son who’s on the spectrum. It’s quite common for people like him to latch onto one specific topic and become an absolute encyclopedia about it. Some people choose trains, some a cartoon. For my son, this was mollusks. Interesting topic I know, but it seemed to be a pretty good deal for us because it meant he’d get really excited about going outside to the beach which we figured was healthier than staying inside all the time. He’d always have a shell with him, or in his pocket. Usually he doesn’t want to talk much, but if you opened the conversation to it, he’d sit there rattling off facts about mollusks for hours. This was shaping up to be a long term passion, so for his 15th birthday I went out and bought him a giant conch shell. He absolutely loved it. The texture, holding it to his ear etc. It was too big to carry around with him all the time, but he kept it by his bed. Fast forward three years, this is where things get weird. About a month ago I was cleaning his room and picked up the conch to dust it off, something I’ve never actually done before. I was immediately hit by a terrible smell – I don’t want to get too into the gross details but I’m a dude, a once 18 year old dude, so I know what happens when you use something to masturbate and don’t clean it. I’m sure we all know what that smells like even after a week. It was pretty clear he had been using this shell as a kind of Strombidae fleshlight for a long, long time without cleaning it. I’m not going to share too much about what happened when this all came to light, but we tried taking it away and my god you’d think we just took his whole world. We decided to give the shell back, but worried this reflected a deeper issue my partner and I decided to get some professional help. So it’s been about a month of him seeing a behavioural therapist, and she recently asked me about his progress at home. I told her it’s been incredibly promising so far. He’s really starting to come out of his shell.

They never get any green cards.

A rip off.

She raised her right arm revealing a huge, hairy armpit as she pointed to all the people sitting at the bar and asked, "What man here will buy a lady a drink? The bar went silent as the patrons tried to ignore her. But down at the end of the bar, a bleary-eyed drunk slammed his hand down on the counter and bellowed, "Give the ballerina a drink! The bartender poured the drink and the woman chugged it down. She turned to the patrons and again pointed around at all of them revealing the same hairy armpit and asked, "What man here will buy a lady a drink? Once again, the same little drunk slapped his money down on the bar and said, "Give the ballerina another drink!" The bartender approached the little drunk and said, "I say, old chap, it's none of my business if you want to buy the lady a drink, but why do you keep calling her 'the ballerina' ?" The drunk replied, "Any woman who can lift her leg that high has got to be a ballerina."

https://ift.tt/2rYyv1i

It may sound like he's a bit nerdy, but we all have our things we love and he's a lover of old streets. The ground of the alley is a light orange in hue, with a soft almost nutty sheen and texture. His feet feel refreshed! The street has gorgeous slopes and embankments, like an alleyway out of Florence in the 1500s, but made out of clay stones. He sees two gentlemen working on fixing a small crack in the street, the only blemish for blocks. One of them is pounding down the clay with a wide-head sledgehammer, thwap thwap! The other is on his knees with a compass and a pick and a broom, adjusting the grade of the street material. He interrupts them to say, "Excuse me gentlemen! I hate to be a bother, but I just want to applaud your hard work on this alleyway. It's rare a city takes such good care with its streets and this one is one of the best." The man with the sledge stops and says, "Well, we appreciate that sir. You know your streets, it seems! Would it surprise you to know that the composition of this street is not adobe? It's mulched with our native nut trees, the cashew nut. That's what gives it its softness. When it rains, the petrichor has a slight sweetness due to the cashew, and the town smells fantastic. I'm just hammering it down before it gets too cold." "Well, I'll be!" cried the archaeologist. "And what's that fellow up to?" pointing to the man on his knees. "Oh him! He's in charge of checking the grade of the clay. If it's too rough, he picks and sweeps it. Backbreaking work. We hire four of them, one for each season. And since autumn just arrived, he's got a few months yet. So you see…" And here the man paused… "So you see…my hammered alley is really 'cashews clay'. And he is the gradist." . . "The gradist…of fall time."

The vet says, “What seems to be the problem?” The cat says, “Meow.” The vet says, “Okay, where?”