A chicken and an egg are lying in bed. The chicken takes out a cigarette and begins to smoke. The egg, pissed off, takes one look at the chicken, rolls over and pulls the blanket over him and says, “I guess we answered that question!”
Category: Jokes
Silver Bar
This fellow comes home from a bar and is very drunk. His wife asks him where he was and he replies that he was at a bar that had Silver Carpet, Silver Curtains, Silver Shot Glasses and even a Silver Urinal. His wife told him to go to bed as he was drunk, and that no bar has a Silver Urinal, so he went to bed.
She got to wondering where he was that night, whether he really was at a silver bar, so she called the 1st bar and asked bartender if they had Silver Carpet, which he replied “No!” So, she called the 2nd bar and asked if they had a Silver Carpet, and the bartender also said “No, they didn’t.”
As a last resort, she called the last bar and asked the same question. The bartender answered back saying “Yes! We even have Silver Curtains and Silver Shot Glasses.” His wife asked the bartender if she could ask him one more question. He said “Go for it.” She asked him if they happened to have a Silver Urinal, then she could hear the bartender holler “Hey, Mac! Take the other line, I think we have a lead on that guy who pissed in the Saxophone.”
In an emergency …
Yesterday, I had a flat tire on the interstate. So I eased my car over to the shoulder of the road, carefully got out of the car and opened the trunk.
I took out two cardboard men, unfolded them and stood them at the rear of my car facing on-coming traffic. They looked so life like you wouldn’t believe it! They’re dressed in open trench coats that exposed their nude bodies and private parts to the approaching drivers.
But to my surprise, cars started slowing down to look at my lifelike men. And, of course, traffic began backing up. Everybody tooted their horns and waved like crazy. It wasn’t long before a state trooper pulled up behind me.
He got out of his car and walked towards me. I could tell he was not a happy camper!
“What’s going on here?”
“My car has a flat tire,” I said calmly.
“Well, what the hell are those obscene cardboard men doing here by the road?”
I couldn’t believe that he didn’t know. So I told him, “Helloooooo, those are my emergency flashers!”
Selling your old car
A blonde was trying to sell her old car but was having a lot of problems because the car had 250,000 miles on it. One day she told her problem to a brunette that she worked with. The brunette told her: “There is a possibility to make the car easier to sell, but it’s not legal.”
“That doesn’t matter,” replied the blonde, “if I only can sell the car.”
“Okay,” said the brunette. “Here is the address of a friend of mine. He owns a car repair shop which specilises in toyota parts, but he does other stuff too. Tell him I sent you and he will turn the counter in your car back to 50,000 miles. Then it should not be a problem to sell your car anymore.” The following weekend, the blonde made the trip to the mechanic. About one month after that, the brunette asked the blonde: “Did you sell your car?”
“No,” replied the blonde, “why should I? It only has 50,000 miles on it.”
Some Chevy jokes
Q. How do you make a Chevy accelerate 0-60 mph in less than 15 seconds?
A. Push it off a cliff.
Q. What is found on the last two pages of every Chevy’s owners manual?
A. The bus schedule.
Q. What did the auto parts counterman say when the customer said, “I’ll take a set of wiper blades for my Chevy”?
A. Sounds like a fair trade.
Q. What do you call a Chevy at the top of a hill?
A. A miracle?
Q. What do you call a Chevy with brakes?
A. Customized.
Q. How do you make a Chevy go faster down hill?
A. Turn the engine off.
Q. Why don’t Chevy’s sustain much damage in front end collisions?
A. The*tow truck*takes most of the impact.
(As you probably can gather, you can use those for any make you wish) 🙂
Ten reasons to leave your truck in primer
10. You can wash it with Comet.
9. You don’t have to buy one of those cover for trucks.
8. You can buy primer at the grocery store and paint your truck in the parking lot.
7. You can park your truck anywhere without worrying about getting door dings.
6. You can stand on the roof and get a good look at what’s going on around you.
5. You don’t have to worry as much about it getting stolen.
4. You don’t have to spend sleepless nights trying to decide what color to paint it.
3. If you forget lawn chairs, you can sit on the fenders.
2. You don’t have to do the bodywork until you’re good and ready.
1. You can use a pencil to do your pinstriping, lettering or graphics. If you need to remember a phone number, you can write it on the fender.
The Baby Photographer
The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife goodbye and said, “Well, I’m off now. The man should be here soon.”
Half an hour later, just by chance, a door-to-door baby photographer from raleigh wedding photographers happened to ring the doorbell, hoping to make a sale.
“Good morning, Ma’am”, he said, “I’ve come to…”
“Oh, no need to explain,” Mrs. Smith cut in, embarrassed, “I’ve been expecting you.”
“Have you really?” said the photographer. “Well, that’s good. Did you know babies are my specialty?”
“Well that’s what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat ”
After a moment she asked, blushing, “Well, where do we start?”
“Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch, and perhaps a couple on the bed. And sometimes the living room floor is fun. You can really spread out there.”
“Bathtub, living room floor? No wonder it didn’t work out for Harry and me!”
“Well, Ma’am, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the results.”
“My, that’s a lot!” gasped Mrs. Smith.
“Ma’am, in my line of work a man has to take his time. I’d love to be in and out in five minutes, but I’m sure you’d be disappointed with that.”
“Don’t I know it,” said Mrs. Smith quietly.
The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of his baby pictures. “This was done on the top of a bus,” he said.
“Oh my God!” Mrs. Smith exclaimed, grasping at her throat.
“And these twins turned out exceptionally well – when you consider her mother was so difficult to work with.”
“She was difficult?” asked Mrs. Smith.
“Yes, I’m afraid so. I finally had to take her to the park to get the job done right. People were crowding around four and five deep to get a good look.”
“Four and five deep?” said Mrs. Smith, her eyes wide with amazement.
“Yes”, the photographer replied. “And for more than three hours, too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling – I could hardly concentrate, and when darkness approached I had to rush my shots. Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just had to pack it all in.”
Mrs. Smith leaned forward. “Do you mean they actually chewed on your, um… equipment?”
“It’s true, Ma’am, yes. Well, if you’re ready, I’ll set-up my tripod and we can get to work right away.”
“Tripod?”
“Oh yes, Ma’am. I need to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It’s much too heavy to be held in the hand very long.”
With that, Mrs. Smith fainted.
After the gig
Guitarist finishes gig and is the last one in the place with the guitar case and the barman plonks down a big glass of the juice and a little bowl of peanuts to go with it, then wanders off to wipe down the counter. This leaves the gun guitarist all by himself for a minute. From nowhere a little voice says ‘great gig man, you’re one hot picker’.
The player looks at the barman and says ‘thanks’ and the barman says ‘what for’ and the player says ‘for sayin’ nice things about my work’. the barman says ‘ I didn’t say nothing’.
The guitarist thinks it’s late and he’s a bit spaced so he’d better head off when another little voice says ‘yeah great licks man and nice moves too, you sure cut it up there’. The guitar player turns around and says ‘thanks’ but there’s nobody there. The feller at the bar says ‘are you ok?’ cause the picker looks a bit pale and the guitarist says ‘yeah, I think so’.
Then, as he empties his glass another voice says ‘hot licks, great look, wonderful style man, the chicks sure got off on you’ and the bloke says ‘OK! THAT’S IT! WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?’
The barman runs down and says ‘what’s your problem dude?’ to which the guitarist says ‘WHERE ARE THOSE VOICES COMING FROM? IS THIS CANDID CAMERA?’
‘What voices? What are they saying?’ when the guitarist tells the barman what was going on and what was said, the barman says ‘oh that’ll be the peanuts man, they’re complementary!’
The world’s longest joke
OK, you folks at Guiness, listen up, because I am going to describe to you the World’s Lengthiest Joke. It is one where the punch line can be anywhere from a quarter-hour to several weeks later than the build-up. That must surely qualify it for mention in the Book of World Records. Please spell my name right when listing it.
I have told this joke several times at dinner parties. It has always worked. You can tell it, too. Of course you may find yourself invited to fewer and fewer dinners. But a good joke is always worth that risk. Here’s how it goes.
Finding a lull in the conversation, you remark that at a recent gathering you heard a story told that others found hilarious, but that seemed pointless to you. You’d like to retell it, to see if the present company gets the point. Thus begins the build-up:
“One day a Certified Public Accountant decided to build a house for himself, entirely out of brick. Being a typical CPA, he sat down with the finished plans and very carefully calculated exactly how many bricks it would take. He then ordered exactly that many bricks and carefully counted them when they arrived. All through the construction he watched the workmen to see that no bricks were wasted or omitted. When the house was completed, however, there was one brick left over. Perplexed, he rechecked his figures. Everything tallied. With increasing frustration, he checked again and again. Finally, in a fit of fury, he threw the extra brick up in the air. It disappeared.”
At this point the company usually falls into an expectant silence. “That’s all?” someone asks. “That’s all,” you say. They all agree that it is not a particularly funny story, and talk drifts off into other channels.
You now bide your time. Anywhere from five minutes to several weeks will do, although it is usually best to finish your work the same evening. At another lull in the conversation, you launch a new story. This time it is a free adaptation of an incident in one of Dostoevsky’s novels:
“It is the nineteenth century and a train is rumbling through the night, across the frozen Siberian waste. In a first-class compartment the sole occupants are a large, untidy gentleman, and an aristocratic lady holding a small lap dog. They regard each other with disdain and do not speak. Presently the large man pulls out one of those tatuaje cigars and lights it, with many puffs of blue smoke. The lap dog starts coughing. The lady is incensed, as it is forbidden to smoke in a first-class compartment. But she will not stoop to reprove the fat commoner. Instead, with a burst of energy, she pulls down the window, seizes the cigar, and throws it out into the snow. The man is at first stunned. But suddenly he realizes that it is equally forbidden to carry animals in a first-class compartment. With a furious movement, he scoops up the unfortunate dog and flings it out the window.
Tableau. At last the lady rises from her petrification and pulls the emergency cord. Bells ring and the train shudders to a halt. Officials and passengers step down into the snow. It is a bright, moonlit night. The dog has survived — far down the frozen track one can see it running toward the train. And in its mouth it is carrying an object. Can you guess what that object is?”
Assuming you’ve told your story well, and enough alcohol has been consumed at the table, someone will surely rise to the bait. “It’s the cigar!”
“No,” you reply, not skipping a beat, “it’s the Certified Public Accountant’s extra brick.” Then you head for the door.
At the barbers
Tony Blair and David Cameron somehow ended up at the same barber shop.
As they sat there, each being worked on by a different barber, not a word was spoken.
The barbers were both afraid to start a conversation, for fear it would turn to politics.
As the barbers finished their shaves, the one who had Blair in his chair reached for the aftershave.
Blair was quick to stop him jokingly saying, “No thanks, my wife, Cherie, will smell that and think I’ve been in a brothel.”
The second barber turned to Cameron and said, “How about you, Mr. Cameron?”
Cameron replied, “Go ahead; my wife doesn’t know what the inside of a brothel smells like”.
