So, my twin brother just called me from prison.

If you put your ear to it, you can smell the sea.

A family is at the dinner table. The son asks the father, “Dad, how many kinds of boobs are there?” The father, surprised, answers, “Well, son, a woman goes through three phases. In her 20s, a woman’s breasts are like melons, round and firm. In her 30s and 40s, they are like pears, still nice, hanging a bit. After 50, they are like onions.” “Onions?” the son asks. “Yes. You see them and they make you cry.” This infuriated his wife and daughter. The daughter asks, “Mom, how many different kinds of willies are there?” The mother smiles and says, “Well, dear, a man goes through three phases also. In his 20s, his willy is like an oak tree, mighty and hard. In his 30s and 40s, it’s like a birch, flexible but reliable. After his 50s, it’s like a Christmas tree.” “A Christmas tree?” the daughter asks. “Yes, dead from the root up and the balls are just for decoration.”

‘cause the constant beeping was giving me a headache and making me hallucinate

"Where does poo come from?" I was a little uncomfortable but decided to give her an honest explanation. So I said, "You just ate breakfast, yes?" "Yes." she replied. "Well, the food goes into our tummies and our bodies take out all the good stuff, and then whatever is left over comes out of our bums when we go to the toilet, and that is poo." She looked a little perplexed, and stared at me in stunned silence for a few seconds and asked, "And Tigger?"

“Doctor, I have this problem with gas, but it really doesn’t bother me too much. It never smells and is always silent. As a matter of fact, I’ve farted at least ten times since I’ve been here in your office. You didn’t know I was farting because it doesn’t smell and is silent.” The doctor says, “I see. Take these pills and come back to see me next week.” The next week the lady returns. “Doctor,” she says, “I don’t know what the heck you gave me, but now my farts, although still silent, stink terribly.” “Good,” the doctor says. “Now that we’ve cleared up your sinuses, let’s work on your hearing.”

Fall was upon this remote reservation when the tribe asked their new Chief what the coming winter was going to be like. The modern day Chief had never been taught the secrets of the ancients. When he looked at the sky he couldn't tell what the winter was going to be like. Better safe than sorry, he said to himself and told his tribe that the winter was indeed expected to be cold and that the members of the village should stock up on firewood to be prepared. After several days, our modern Chief got an idea. He went to the phone booth, called the National Weather Service and asked, "Is the coming winter going to be cold?" "It looks like this winter is going to be quite cold," the meteorologist at the weather service responded. So the Chief went back to his people and told them to collect even more firewood in order to be prepared. A week later he called the National Weather Service again. "Does it still look like it is going to be a very cold winter?" "Yes," the man at National Weather Service again replied, "It's going to be a very cold winter." The Chief again went back to his people and ordered them to collect every scrap of firewood they could find. Two weeks later the Chief called the National Weather Service again. "Are you absolutely sure that the winter is going to be very cold?" "Absolutely," the man replied. "It's looking more and more like it is going to be one of the coldest winters ever." "How can you be so sure?" the Chief asked. The weatherman replied, "The Indians are collecting firewood like crazy."

After one particularly nasty example, the women in the class decided to walk out the next time he started. The professor got wind of this plot, so the next morning he walked in and said, “Good morning, class. Did you hear the one about the shortage of whores in India?” With that, all the women stood up and headed for the door. “Wait, ladies,” cried the professor, “The boat doesn't leave until tomorrow!”

"If you ever come close to me, I'll fucking skin you alive. When we're sleeping, you don't fucking touch me. You hear me? Don't ever talk to me, either." "Fucking great." I thought, "First day in here and I'm already married."

God's all like "Aight, aight. I like you Johnny, I always have, always will. You helped old ladies cross the street, you donated to charities, and all in all in my professional divine opinion…. you're a stand up guy! But what the fuck's the deal with all the incest porn?" Johnny replied, " You see God, but that's just it, you fell right into my trap! You know I believed in you, which meant you knew, that I knew you were always watching! Yet you continued to watch my incest porn, time and time and again! So I ask you! What the fuck's the deal with all the incest porn?" God replied " Damn you're good"

Unfortunately, after just a few years, they are in financial trouble. In order to keep the bank from repossessing the ranch, they need to purchase a bull so that they can breed their own stock. The brunette balances their checkbook, then takes their last $600 dollars out west to another ranch where a man has a prize bull for sale. Upon leaving, she tells her sister, "When I get there, if I decide to buy the bull, I'll contact you to drive out after me and haul it home." The brunette arrives at the man’s ranch, inspects the bull, and decides she does want to buy it. The man tells her that he can sell it for $599, no less. After paying him, she drives to the nearest town to send her sister a telegram to tell her the news. She walks into the telegraph office, and says, "I want to send a telegram to my sister telling her that I've bought a bull for our ranch. I need her to hitch the trailer to our pick-up truck and drive out here so we can haul it home." The telegraph operator explains that he'll be glad to help her, then adds, "It’s just 99 cents a word." Well, with only $1 left after paying for the bull, the brunette realizes that she’ll only be able to send her sister one word. After thinking for a few minutes, she nods, and says, “I want you to send her the word, 'comfortable.'” The telegraph operator shakes his head. "How is she ever going to know that you want her to hitch the trailer to your pick-up truck and drive out here to haul that bull back to your ranch if you send her the word, 'comfortable'?" The brunette explains, "My sister’s blonde. She’ll read it slow."

…to meet the new mortician…

I walked into the bedroom, and I was shocked! "Honey, Jabba the Hut is not my favorite Star Wars character" I said. "Fuck off" She shouted "I haven't got dressed you asshole!"

He doesn't know what costume to wear in order to not draw attention to his head or his leg, and he has a month to prepare so he writes to a costume company to explain his problem. A few days later he receives a package with the following letter: "Dear Sir: Please find enclosed a complimentary pirate's costume. The handkerchief can cover your bald head if you'd like, and with your wooden leg you will be a great pirate. Very truly yours, Faye's Costumes" The man thinks this is terrible because they have just emphasized his wooden leg, and so he writes a letter of complaint. A week goes by and he receives another package and a letter, which says: "Dear Sir: We are quite sorry about the misunderstanding. Please find enclosed a monk costume. The long robe will cover your wooden leg, and with your bald head you will really look the part. Very truly yours, Faye's Costumes" Now the man is really upset, since they have gone from using his wooden leg to using his bald head! So again he writes the company another letter of complaint, being particularly nasty about how they've failed to meet both conditions with their previous attempts. The next week he gets a much smaller package and a note, which reads: "Dear Sir: You will find enclosed a bottle of molasses. Pour the molasses over your bald head, stick your wooden leg up your ass, and go as a caramel apple. Very truly yours, Faye's Costumes"

"Quick, pass me your bottle!" I told my son, grabbing my crotch. Bloody useless that boy. He just sat there crying in his car seat.