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Your favorite Jokes? - Page 13

post #181 of 196
Irritated by Mobile phone users in the Toilet?

All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent co-workers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of ass cleansing fibre cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell.
As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the shopping centre to pick up an order for the wife. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go.
I hurried to the shopping centre toilets. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 1 through 5 for your convenience:
1. Occupied.
2. Clean, but toilet Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.
3. **** smeared on seat.
4. **** and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.
5. No toilet paper, no stall door, something growing near base of toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall #2. I trudged back, entered, dropped my trousers and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful ****ter. I wasn't happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.
I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a mobile phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. ****ter was blathering to Mrs. ****ter about the ****ty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish.
As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My ass let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.
Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude - a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.
Once my ass cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent:
(1) The next-door conversation had ceased
(2) my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come
(3) the toilet was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench.
It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.
"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"
Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.
Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little ****tles of conversation made themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up... in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.
Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear words and gags. My ****-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.
There was a lull in my production, and the toilets became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the toilet, slamming the door behind him.
After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the cleaner who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.
As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the toilet with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.
I exited the toilet, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous ****-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to **** in public - and I doubt he'll ever again answer his mobile phone in the latrine.
And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the toilet.
post #182 of 196
I have two favorite jokes. Both are poor in taste so if that bothers you stop reading now.

A jewish boy approached his father:

boy: Dad, may I borrow $5?
father: Son, why do you want $4?? What do you need $3 for??


second joke...

Q: Whats worse then finding a worm in your apple??

A: Getting raped.
post #183 of 196
Classic story. Brings a tear to my eye.

Quote:
Originally Posted by sydneycentric View Post
Irritated by Mobile phone users in the Toilet?

All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent co-workers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of ass cleansing fibre cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell.
As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the shopping centre to pick up an order for the wife. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go.
I hurried to the shopping centre toilets. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 1 through 5 for your convenience:
1. Occupied.
2. Clean, but toilet Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.
3. **** smeared on seat.
4. **** and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.
5. No toilet paper, no stall door, something growing near base of toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall #2. I trudged back, entered, dropped my trousers and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful ****ter. I wasn't happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.
I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a mobile phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. ****ter was blathering to Mrs. ****ter about the ****ty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish.
As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My ass let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.
Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude - a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.
Once my ass cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent:
(1) The next-door conversation had ceased
(2) my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come
(3) the toilet was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench.
It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.
"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"
Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.
Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little ****tles of conversation made themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up... in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.
Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear words and gags. My ****-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.
There was a lull in my production, and the toilets became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the toilet, slamming the door behind him.
After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the cleaner who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.
As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the toilet with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.
I exited the toilet, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous ****-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to **** in public - and I doubt he'll ever again answer his mobile phone in the latrine.
And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the toilet.
post #184 of 196
Quote:
Originally Posted by sydneycentric View Post
Irritated by Mobile phone users in the Toilet?

post #185 of 196
A little boy goes to his dad and asks, "What is politics?"

Dad says, "Well son, let me try to explain it this way: I'm the breadwinner of the family, so let's call me Capitalism. Your Mom, she's the administrator of the money, so we'll call her the Government. We're here to take care of your needs, so we'll call you the People. The nanny, we'll consider her the Working Class. And your baby brother, we'll call him the Future. Now, think about that and see if that makes sense,"

So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what dad had said. Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper. So the little boy goes to his parents' room and finds his mother sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny's room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed. The next morning, the little boy says to his father, "Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now." The father says, "Good son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about." The little boy replies, "Well, while Capitalism is screwing the Working Class, the Government is sound asleep, the People are being ignored and the Future is in deep shit."
post #186 of 196
Quote:
Originally Posted by X-It View Post
A little boy goes to his dad and asks, "What is politics?"

Dad says, "Well son, let me try to explain it this way: I'm the breadwinner of the family, so let's call me Capitalism. Your Mom, she's the administrator of the money, so we'll call her the Government. We're here to take care of your needs, so we'll call you the People. The nanny, we'll consider her the Working Class. And your baby brother, we'll call him the Future. Now, think about that and see if that makes sense,"

So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what dad had said. Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper. So the little boy goes to his parents' room and finds his mother sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny's room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed. The next morning, the little boy says to his father, "Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now." The father says, "Good son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about." The little boy replies, "Well, while Capitalism is screwing the Working Class, the Government is sound asleep, the People are being ignored and the Future is in deep shit."

LOL
post #187 of 196
Mrs. Brown is picking up her daughter's room when she finds a box of condoms.

Very concerned, she sits down with her daughter that night.

"Susan, I found these condoms in your bedroom. Are you being sexually active?"

Susan looks startled, then replies "Oh no, mother, I only lie there!"
post #188 of 196
A young man goes to see his doctor D: What seems to be the problem young man? YM: My penis has turned orange! D: Orange? You mean red don't you, like from a rash or irritation? YM: NO I mean orange as in the fruit color orange! D: Well, disrobe & let me take a look. D: Wow! I've never seen a case like this before in my life! Did you injure yourself in that area recently? YM: Nope D: Well I guess it could be stress related. Have you been under any stress lately? YM: Nope, not really! D: What do you do for a living? YM: I'm unemployed as of now. D: So what do you do all day? YM: Mostly I just sit at home, watch porn & eat Cheetos.
post #189 of 196
I just went and bought myself an Advent Calendar from Woolworths. I brought it home and found the windows were boarded up.
post #190 of 196
Quote:
Originally Posted by denning View Post
Knock knock...
Who's there?
Interrupting cow.
Interrupting co... MOOO!!!! ...w who?

omg this is so dumb and funny. the exact kind of joke i would tell. i cant wait to tell it at work and have everyone look at me like im retarded.
post #191 of 196
I'm happy to hear someone appreciated it. It's one of my favourites. Up there with:

What's brown and sticky?

- A stick.

What do you call a boomerang that doesn't come back?

- A stick.

What's worse than a lobster on your piano?

- Crabs on your organ.

What's pink, flat and fishy?

- A pink flat fish.

What's yellow and smells like green paint?

- Yellow paint.

The other day I was in a restaurant and asked the waiter to bring me my check. Idiot brought me a Slovak instead.

(note: some of these have been purloined from this thread)
post #192 of 196
Okay, this one is a little different, but it's a non-linear joke that suits a certain type of crowd:

A horse walks into a bar and the bartender asks, "Why the long face?"

The horse replies, "I have AIDS."
post #193 of 196
This one is from middle school... not quite the crowd-killer it was back in the 7th grade.

After a long night of drinking, a couple is driving home in their convertible down a long, dark, lonely stretch of road. They decide it would be kinky to pull over to the side of the road and get it on....

Fast forward about 15 minutes, she's naked, he's got his pants and shoes off, she's on top him in the driver's seat and having a blast.... so much fun they didn't notice the drunk driver who, not seeing them pulled over, smacked the side of their car, sending it down a hill into some trees.

Boyfriend is trapped inside the car by twisted metal, she was thrown free. The clothes and belongings are scattered about in the dark. The boyfriend is begging her to go get help. She can't find her cell phone or dress so she takes the only things she can find - his shoe, and starts running towards town.

She runs several miles to the nearest hillbilly town. She bursts into the sheriff's station crying, covered in sweat and naked from head to toe with one arm covering her breasts and the other holding the shoe over her crotch.

She's out of breath but forces out a plea to the sheriff on duty "Help.. me please! ...My ...boyfriend is trapped ....and can't get out!!!"

The sheriff looks down at the shoe, then looks her dead in the eyes and says "Ma'am, I'm sorry but if he's stuck in that far I don't think we are going to be able to get him out!"
post #194 of 196
Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson went on a camping trip. After a good meal and a bottle of wine, they were exhausted and went to sleep.

Some hours later, Holmes awoke and nudged his faithful friend. "Watson, look up at the sky and tell me what you see." Watson replied, "I see millions and millions of stars."

"What does that tell you?" asks Holmes.

Watson pondered for a minute. "Astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and
potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo. Time wise, I deduce
that the time is approximately a quarter past three. Theologically, I can see that the Lord is all
powerful and that we are small and insignificant. Meteorologically, I suspect that we will have a
beautiful day tomorrow. What does it tell you?"

Holmes was silent for a minute, then spoke.

"It means Watson, that someone has stolen our tent!"
post #195 of 196
1. The US has made a new weapon that destroys people but keeps the building standing,. Its called the stock market - Jay Leno.
2. Do you have any idea how cheap stocks are? Wall Street is now being called Wal-Mart Street - Jay Leno.
3. The difference between a pigeon and a London investment banker . The pigeon can still make a deposit on a BMW.
4. What's the difference between a guy who lost everything in Las Vegas and an investment banker ? A tie.
5. The problem with investment bank balance sheet is that on the left side nothing's right and on the right side nothing's left.
6. I want to warn people from Nigeria who might be watching our show, if you get any e-mails from Washington asking for money, it's a scam. Don't fall for it - Jay Leno.
7. Bush was asked about the20credit crunch. He said it was his favorite candy bar - Jay Leno.
8. The rescue bill was about 450 pages. President Bush's copy is even thicker. They had to include pictures - Jay Leno.
9. President Bush's response was to meet some small business owners in San Antonio last week. The small business owners are General Motors, General Electric and Century 21. - Jay Leno
10. What worries me most about the credit crunch, is that if one of my checks is returned stamped 'insufficient funds'. I won't know whether that refers to mine or the bank's.
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