What kind of shoes do Ninjas wear?
The police charged me with hummus-cide
The bartender says "How'd you do that?"
Fortunately, I belong to the 1% of intelligent people
Well, at least that's been my experience so far.
Its worse than the last two jokes you heard, combined.
It’s called a “Kilt” because I kilt the last man who called it a skirt. Is there anything worn under the kilt? No, it's all in perfect working order. A lot of people wonder what a true Scotsman wears under his kilt, but don't ask him: he'll not tell ya, he'll show ya. In Scotland, we have mixed feelings about Global Warming. For even though we might lose some of our southern cities, at least we'll get to sit on the mountains and watch the English drown. 🙂
Not an original joke but hilarious nonetheless. Presented for your enjoyment. This is a story about a couple who had been happily married for years. The only friction in their marriage was the husband's habit of farting loudly every morning when he awoke. The noise would wake his wife and the smell would make her eyes water and make her gasp for air. Every morning she would plead with him to stop ripping them off because it was making her sick. He told her he couldn't stop and that it was perfectly natural. She told him to see a doctor. She was concerned that one day he would blow his guts out. The years went by and he continued to rip them out! Then one Thanksgiving morning as she was preparing the turkey for dinner and he was upstairs sound asleep, she looked at the bowl where she had put the turkey innards and neck, gizzard, liver and all the spare parts and a malicious thought came to her. She took the bowl and went upstairs where her husband was sound asleep and, gently pulling back the bed covers, she pulled back the elastic waistband of his underpants and emptied the bowl of turkey guts into his shorts. Some time later she heard her husband waken with his usual trumpeting which was followed by a blood curdling scream and the sound of frantic footsteps as he ran into the bathroom. The wife could hardly control herself as she rolled on the floor laughing, tears in her eyes! After years of torture she reckoned she had got him back pretty good. About twenty minutes later, her husband came downstairs in his bloodstained underpants with a look of horror on his face. She bit her lip as she asked him what was the matter. He said, "Honey, you were right. All these years you have warned me and I didn't listen to you." "What do you mean?" asked his wife. "Well, you always told me that one day I would end up farting my guts out, and today it finally happened. But by the grace of God, some Vaseline, and these two fingers, I think I got most of them back in."
Does that make him a jolly rancher?
It's about time
Thirteen. But number nine will shock you.
They're making headlines everywhere!
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Thought it was a nice jester
The hills are alive with the sound of moo sick
Today was just the tip of the iceberg. Tomorrow romaines to be seen.
To get to the other side!
He was clearly out of the loop.
Because every time I cut one down I keep a log.
They don’t like turning their back on family
It was the least I could do to help.
“Have you ever shoed horses before?” the blacksmith asked him. “No,” replied the Irishman, “but I did tell a donkey to fuck off once.”
The plot was predictable, and the special f(x) was terrible.
*Bart's life flashes before his eyes as he's mercilessly shot four times in the chest*
Po: Sir im gonna have to write a ticket but i will give you a chance by answering a trivia question. Guy: Lets do this Po: There are two headlights coming from the end of the street. What is it? Guy: Its a car!! Po: Sure but is it a kia, is it a mazda? That was wrong but ill give you one more chance. There is one headlight coming down the street. What is it. Guy: Its a motorbike !!! Po: Sure but is it bmw , is it suzuki? Sorry man im gonna have to proceed with the ticket Guy: Hey give me one last chance. Ill ask you an easy trivia question and if you get it right go ahead and finish the ticket Po: Ok go Guy: Theres a lady at the corner of the street very late at night. She is wearing a mini skirt and a very tight blouse while waving and talking to men in cars. What is she? Po: She is a whore dude… Guy: Sure but is it your wife, is it your sister?
But I laugh more.
Son: Soy Milk. Dad: Hola Milk, Soy Dad
and holds up two fingers exclaiming "Five beers please!"…
It’s not a very long poem, but it’s pretty deep.
Doc: "Are you sure?" Me: "…I'm Definite."
mathematics puns make me feel number.
They both have to pass the bar.
I said fine! slam the door on my cock on the way out