Joke of the day

Didn't read all, sorry if this is a repost.... How do you find Will Smith in the snow?... Look for the fresh prints.

?

One for the girls

A woman is walking on the road and a voice shouts out, "Don't take a step further." She obeys and suddenly a ton of bricks fall on the place where she would have otherwise been.

She thinks she imagined it and keeps walking until suddenly the voice calls out again. "Don't take a step further." She stops and a car skids past.

Then suddenly she hears the voice saying "I am your guardian angel, and I will warn you before something bad happens to you. Now do you have any questions to ask me?

"Yes!" Shouts the woman, "Just where were you on my wedding day!"

For a couple years I 've been blaming it on lack of sleep and too much pressure from my job, but now I found out the real reason: I'm tired because I'm overworked.

The population of this country is 237 million. 104 million are retired. That leaves 133 million to do the work. There are 85 million in school, which leaves 48 million to do the work. Of this there are 29 million employed by the federal government, leaving 19 million to do the work. 2.8 million are in the Armed Forces, which leaves 16.2 million to do the work.

Take from the total the 14,800,000 people who work for State and City Governments and that leaves 1.4 million to do the work. At any given time there are 188,000 people in hospitals, leaving 1,212,000 to do the work. Now, there are 1,211,998 people in prisons.

That leaves just two people to do the work. You and me. And you're sitting at your computer reading jokes.

Jim calls his buddy Bob, only to have Bob's 5 year old son Sammy answer the phone.

"Oh, hi Sammy, is your dad home?"

"No, he's busy," Sammy whispered

"Well, couId I speak with your Mom then?"

"No, She's busy too," Sammy whispered again.

"Are you ok, Sammy?"

"I'm ok, the police are here"

Alarmed, Jim asks Sammy to put the policeman on the phone.

"No, their busy too," Sammy whispered.

"Whats everyone doing!" Jim exclaimed.

"Looking for me."

A teacher asks: I shoot at 5 birds and 2 of them are dead, so how many are left?

A student answers: Not one, The others flew away when they heard the gun shots.

Teacher: No! It's a math problem, but i like your style.

Student: So, I have a question for you teacher: 3 women are eating ice-cream, one is licking it, the other one is sucking it and the last one is biting it. Which one is married?

Teacher gets embarrassed and answers: Sucking one?

Student: No! The woman who has a ring on her finger, but i like your style.

Two guys, one old and one young are pushing their carts around Wal-Mart when they collide. The old guy says to the young guy, "Sorry about that. I'm looking for my wife, and I guess I wasn't paying attention to where I was going.

The young guy says, "That's OK, it's a coincidence. I'm looking for my wife too. I can't find her and I'm getting a little desperate" The old guy says, 'Well, maybe I can help you find her, what does she look like?'

The young guy says, "Well, she is 27 yrs old, tall, with red hair, blue eyes, is buxom wearing no bra, she has long legs, and is wearing short shorts. What does your wife look like?"

To which the first old guy says, "Doesn't matter, let's look for yours."

Little Johnny is sitting on a park bench, gobbling down candy bars as fast as he can. Kindly old man says: "Son, you know it's not good for you to eat so much candy so fast."

Johnny says: "My grandfather lived to be 99 years old."

Old gentleman says: "Oh, and did he eat 12 candy bars in a row?"

And Johnny says: "No, but he minded his own berkelying business."

A guy walked into the local welfare office to pick up his check.

He marched straight up to the counter and said, "Hi! You know, I just HATE drawing welfare. I'd really rather have a job."

The person behind the counter said, "Your timing is excellent. We just got a job opening from a very wealthy old man who wants a Chauffeur and Bodyguard for his beautiful daughter. You'll have to drive around in his 2011 Mercedes-Benz CL, and he will supply all of your clothes. And, because of the long hours, meals will be provided. You'll also be expected to escort the daughter on her overseas holiday trips. This is rather awkward to say but you will also have, as part of your job, the assignment to satisfy her sexual urges as the daughter is in her mid-20's and has a rather strong sex drive."

The guy, just plain wide-eyed, said, "You're bullE36 M3tin' me!"

The counter person responded, "Yeah, well ... You started it."

DO YOU KNOW THE FRONT FROM THE BACK OF A TREE?A REDNECK FROM BAXLEY GEORGIA DECIDES TO TRAVEL ACROSS THE SOUTH TO VIRGINIA TO SEE GOD'S COUNTRY. WHEN HE GETS TO FRANKLIN, HE LIKES THE PLACE SO MUCH THAT HE DECIDES TO STAY. BUT FIRST HE MUST FIND A JOB!!!

HE WALKS INTO THE INTERNATIONAL PAPER COMPANY OFFICE AND FILLS OUT AN APPLICATION AS AN EXPERIENCED LOG INSPECTOR.

IT'S HIS LUCKY DAY!!! THEY JUST HAPPEN TO BE LOOKING FOR SOMEONE, BUT FIRST, THE LOG FOREMAN TAKES HIM FOR A RIDE INTO THE FOREST IN THE COMPANY PICKUP TRUCK TO SEE HOW MUCH HE KNOWS. THE FOREMAN STOPS THE TRUCK ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD AND POINTS AT A TREE "SEE THAT TREE OVER THERE? I WANT YOU TO TELL ME WHAT SPECIES IT IS AND HOW MANY BOARD FEET OF LUMBER IT CONTAINS."

THE REDNECK PROMPTLY ANSWERS, "THAT THAR'S A WHITEPINE, 383 BOARD FEET OF LUMBER IN 'ER."

THE FOREMAN IS IMPRESSED!!! HE PUTS THE TRUCK IN MOTION AND STOPS ABOUT A MILE DOWN THE ROAD. HE POINTS AT ANOTHER TREE THROUGH THE PASSENGER WINDOW AND ASKS THE SAME QUESTION. THIS TIME, IT'S A BIGGER TREE OF A DIFFERENT CLASS..

"THAT'S A LOBLOLLY PINE AND SHE'S GOT ABOUT 456 CLEAR BOARD FEET."

THE FOREMAN IS REALLY IMPRESSED WITH THE GOOD OL' BOY, HE HAS BEEN QUICK AND GOT THE ANSWERS RIGHT WITHOUT USING A CALCULATOR. TIME FOR ONE MORE TEST.

THEY DRIVE A LITTLE FURTHER DOWN THE ROAD, AND THE FOREMAN STOPS AGAIN. THIS TIME, HE POINTS ACROSS THE ROAD THROUGH HIS DRIVER SIDE WINDOW AND SAYS "AND WHAT ABOUT THAT ONE?"

EVEN BEFORE THE FOREMAN FINISHES POINTING, THE REDNECK SAYS, "WHITE OAK, 242 BOARD FEET AT BEST."

THE FOREMAN SPINS THE TRUCK AROUND AND HEADS BACK TO THE OFFICE A LITTLE TICKED OFF BECAUSE HE THINKS THE RED NECK IS SMARTER THAN HE IS. AS THEY NEAR THE OFFICE, ANOTHER FOREMAN STOPS THE TRUCK AND ASKS BUBBA TO STEP OUTSIDE.

HE HANDS HIM A PIECE OF CHALK AND TELLS HIM, "SEE THAT TREE OVER THERE?" "I WANT YOU TO MARK AN X ON THE FRONT OF THAT TREE!!"

THE FOREMAN THINKS TO HIMSELF, "IDIOT, HOW WOULD HE KNOW WHICH IS THE FRONT OF THE TREE?"

WHEN BUBBA REACHES THE TREE, HE GOES AROUND IT IN A CIRCLE WHILE LOOKING AT THE GROUND. HE THEN REACHES UP AND PLACES A WHITE X ON THE TRUNK. HE WALKS BACK TO THE FOREMAN AND HANDS HIM THE CHALK. "THAT THAR'S THE FRONT,"THE REDNECK SAYS.

THE FOREMAN LAUGHS TO HIMSELF AND ASKS SARCASTICALLY, "HOW IN THE HELL DO YOU KNOW THAT'S THE FRONT OF THE TREE?"

THE GOOD OL' BOY LOOKS DOWN AT HIS FEET, WHILE RUBBING THE TOE OF HIS LEFT BOOT, CLEANING IT IN THE GRAVEL, AND REPLIES, "CUZ SOMEBODY TOOK A E36 M3 BEHIND IT!"

HE GOT THE JOB.

A very demanding wife had a birthday coming up. Her husband asked 'What do you want for your birthday, dear?' and she said 'It better be shiny and go 0-200 in less than 15 seconds'.

Birthday morning comes, she runs to the window and looks out.

There's a bathroom scale in the driveway.

iceracer wrote: ?

Turn that frown upside-down!

I was going to say "pitchfork" though because it is even funnier.

Curmudgeon wrote: A very demanding wife had a birthday coming up. Her husband asked 'What do you want for your birthday, dear?' and she said 'It better be shiny and go 0-200 in less than 15 seconds'. Birthday morning comes, she runs to the window and looks out. There's a bathroom scale in the driveway.

My wife's birthday is tomorrow.

A man had just settled into his seat next to the window on the plane when another man sat down in the aisle seat and put his black Labrador Retriever in the middle seat next to the man.

The first man looked very quizzically at the dog and asked why the dog was allowed on the plane.

The second man explained that he was from the Police Drugs Enforcement Agency and that the dog was a 'sniffing dog'.

'His name is Sniffer and he's the best there is. I'll show you once we get airborne,when I put him to work.'

The plane took off, and once it has leveled out, the Policeman said, 'Watch this.'

He told Sniffer to 'search'.

Sniffer jumped down,walked along the aisle, and finally sat very purposefully next to a woman for several seconds. Sniffer then returned to his seat and put one paw on the policeman's arm.

The Policeman said, 'Good boy', and he turned to the man and said, 'That woman is in possession of marijuana, I'm making a note of her seat number and the authorities will apprehend her when we land. 'Gee, that's pretty good,' replied the first man.

Once again, the Policeman sent Sniffer to search the aisles.

The Lab sniffed about, sat down beside a man for a few seconds, returned to its seat, and this time he placed two paws on the agent's arm. The Policeman said, 'That man is carrying cocaine, so again, I'm making a note of his seat number for the police.'

'I like it!' said his seat mate.

The Policeman then told Sniffer to 'search' again.

Sniffer walked up and down the aisles for a little while, sat down for a moment, and then came racing back to the agent, jumped into the middle seat and proceeded to E36 M3 all over the place.

The first man was really disgusted by this Behaviour and couldn't figure out how or why a well-trained dog would behave like that, so he asked the Policeman, 'What's going on ?'

The Policeman nervously replied, 'He's just found a bomb.'

Cletus is passing by Billy Bob 's hay barn one day when, through a gap in the door, he sees Billy Bob doing a slow and sensual striptease in front of an old John Deere tractor.

Buttocks clenched, he performs a slow pirouette, and gently slides off the right strap of his overalls, followed by the left. He then hunches his shoulders forward and in a classic striptease move, lets his overalls fall down to his hips, revealing a torn and frayed plaid shirt.

Then, grabbing both sides of his shirt, he rips it apart to reveal his stained T-shirt underneath. With a final flourish, he tears the T-shirt from his body, and hurls his baseball cap onto a pile of hay.

Having seen enough, Cletus rushes in and says, "What the world're ya doing, Billy Bob ?"

"Good grief, Cletus, ya scared the bejeebers out of me," says an embarrassed Billy Bob ..

"Well me 'n the wife been havin trouble lately in the bedroom D'partment, and the therapist suggested I do something sexy to a Tractor."

A real woman is a man's best friend.

She will never stand him up and never let him down.

She will reassure him when he feels insecure and comfort him after a bad day.

She will inspire him to do things he never thought he could do; to live without fear and forget regret.

She will enable him to express his deepest emotions and give in to his most intimate desires.

She will make sure he always feels as though he's the most handsome man in the room and will enable him to be the most confident, sexy, seductive and invincible...

No wait........, Sorry.

I'm thinking of whiskey. It's whiskey that does all that E36 M3.

Never mind.

http://www.stonekettle.com/2010/04/things-that-chap-my-ass-about-auto.html

Things That Chap My Ass About Auto Maintenance

You know what makes me laugh?

Flying cars.

You know, those flying cars we were supposed to have up here in the futuristic George Jetson 21st Century?

Can you imagine?

No, really, can you just imagine the astronomical death toll? The shear complete carnage? Flying cars would make the human race extinct more surely than any giant asteroid impact or nuclear winter or universal healthcare program or ancient Mayan prophecy.

Invent flying cars and I give humanity two months, tops. That’s what happened to the dinosaurs. Flying cars.

Seriously, look at the idiots you share the road with – now give these simpletons wings and three dimensions to maneuver in. That’s right, these are the same mouth breathing dolts who can’t manage a 4-way stop or understand the basic concept of “left lane fast, right lane slow.” These are the same morons who watch porn and surf the internet while behind the wheel of a 20-ton tractor trailer rig doing 70 down the highway. These are the same Viagra fueled hard-ons in their giant chrome crusted pickup trucks that so desperately crave the attention and envy of people they don’t know who are impressed by the manufacturer of car parts ( It’s Got a HEMI! Seriously, like I give a berkeley who made your transmission – get out of the way, Jackass) – Yeah, let’s give these people flying Hummers. Try to picture a 70 foot long levitating Winnebago with a blue haired driver from Whattheberkeleyinton, Oklahoma, in the driver’s seat squinting out the top of his bifocals through the steering wheel at a map flapping madly in the breeze with a midget poodle dog in his lap barking wildly at the birds and the clouds - how come science fiction never managed to see that coming? Just imagine a sky full of flying cars swooping through the air – and every single dumbass piloting with one knee as they chat on the phone and thumb away at their texting keyboards, screaming at their kids in the backseat while in the throes of Sky Rage.

Oh yes, yes, sign me up for that.

Hell, can you imagine the rain of cigarette butts, Starbuck’s cups, and Taco Bell wrappers falling in a continuous sleet from the sky? And you thought pigeon poop was bad. Speaking of which, wait till a couple of geese get sucked into the grill of these flying Buicks. Screw floating cities, we’ll probably need to start living in underground bunkers like the giant WWII submarine pens the Nazis built with the 12 foot thick roofs of ferrocrete and re-bar – at least until bats and birds and flying bunnies and those goofs who like to shoot at passing commuters become extinct.

And, boy, think you’re nervous now, letting your teenaged kids borrow the car? Imagine if it could fly too (imagine the insurance…).

Go ahead, breath into the paper bag. I’ll wait – I’ve got a teenager too.

Now, if a sky full of drunk, stupid, reckless, suicidal jackasses on cell phones in flying cars isn’t enough for you, add this little detail: those flying cars would be built by the same drooling ass-picking booger eating auto manufacturers that make the car you drive on the ground today. Think about that for a minute. The difference is that when your ride breaks down now it doesn’t fall 30,000 feet in a blazing column of smoke and screaming death like a gut-shot B-24 going in over 1944 Berlin. And that’s exactly what would happen – because auto manufacturers, and specifically the engineers who design cars, have got to be the dumbest bunch of sadistically twisted chimp brained chowderheads who have ever existed. Every wonder what happened to those strange social miscreants you went to grade school with? The ones who took auto-shop and only auto-shop all the way through high school and went to Vocab in the summer? Some of those folks tortured small helpless animals and grew up to be cannibal serial killers or Phys-Ed teachers – the rest went to work for GM.

I swear (a lot), have you looked under the hood of a modern car? I mean really looked?

Who designs E36 M3 like that?

What is all that stuff? It ain’t engine so what the hell does it do? And there’s more weird stuff under the car.

I can name every single component of an LM2500 Navy Aegis cruiser gas turbine main power plant – and there isn’t one damned thing in that engine room that isn’t completely necessary (well, except for the Lieutenants, they’re usually pretty worthless but they come with the boat, what can you do, right?). I can take a Delta industrial lathe completely apart and put it back together again. Hell, I can field strip an M1911A1 Government Model .45, naming each part and putting it back to together again in under a minute. Blindfolded. But, I don’t recognize half the crap packed Swiss watch-like into the compartment under the hood of my GMC. What is that thing? The flux capacitor? A frappichino machine? The fuel injection system? I swear to the forlorn chrome plated bulbous nosed ghost of Edsel Ford, would it kill these bastards to label E36 M3?

Nobody really knows what any of that stuff does nowadays. Used to be you could ask your dad, or pretty much any guy with a greasy shirt and a SKOAL cap, and he’d say something confident and automechanicky sounding like, “Well, it’s either fuel or fire. Pop the hood, let’s take a look… Oh, hell, there’s your problem! Broken fan belt. You don’t need a new one, we can make one with some old pantyhose and duct tape.” In the old days, it was always the fan belt (and oddly enough your dad always had old pantyhose around the shop…er, never mind). You know how many cars my old man fixed with a soup can, spit, and a steady stream of colorful Navy cursing? Nowadays? Nobody knows anything. Ask a certified auto repairman or ask a redneck shade tree mechanic what that expensive sounding clicking noise is and the first thing he says is, “Wow! That’s weird, man. Never seen that before. Well, it could be any number of things. Could be the ratzerfratzer valveanoodle, or the fuel velociraptor output overflow sensor under-voltage, or it might be your floor mats, there’s just no way to tell – we’ll have to plug it into the computer…” You know what “Plug it into the computer” means? $400. To start. It’s like that scene in The Empire Strikes Back where the Millennium Falcon keeps making that waaaaaah waaaah waaaaaaaaaaah VW Beetle noise and won’t go to lightspeed. “Chewie, take the Professor here in the back and plug him into the hyperdrive.”

Why in the hell didn’t the Falcon just speak English?

You know what language my truck speaks? Check Engine Light. $40,000 bucks and the only thing it can do when it’s sick is turn on the Check Engine Light? That’s it? It can tell me my gas mileage over time to the tenth of a gallon. I mean it can do complex math, but it can’t tell me what’s wrong? It can tell me when to change the oil. Hell, it’s got On-Star, if I press a button my truck can talk to some hottie in outer space! My wife’s car has GPS, that berkeleying thing never shuts up, turn left turn left turn left turn left oh god turn left. Not only that, but it can speak multiple languages and even in different accents – we like to get our directions from the British chick when we go for fish and chips (it just seems more authentic). But something goes bad and the only thing the vehicle can do is turn on a yellow light. Bing! Well thanks Detroit. That’s helpful. It’s like asking a sick four year old where it hurts. Everywhere! Ralph! My $300 Blackberry speaks English, why doesn’t my $30,000 Mustang? You have to buy another computer to talk to the computer in the truck to convert yellow Check Engine Light into Trouble Code. Then you have to look Trouble Code up on the internet. Ooooooh, Check Engine Light means P0303 which finally translates as Cyclinder 3 Misfire. That clears it right up. Yeah. Flying cars. Bah, I’d be happy if the goddamned truck just told me the #3 fuel injector was clogged in plain English – not that I’d recognize a fuel injector in all that mess. Is this it? Snap! Whoops I hope we didn’t need that.

In the old days you could pretty much fix anything by doing nothing more than wiggling some wires. Wiggle wiggle. Try it now! Vrrrooom! Good! Don’t even think about doing that now. Seriously, they act like you’re jiggling the cord to Granny’s life-support machine. Holy E36 M3! What are you doing? You’re wiggling wires? berkeley! Stop it, you’re not even grounded man, you’ll fry the chip! Damn, dude, where’d you get your degree, Whattheberkeleyinton Community College?

My dad could completely rebuild an entire Ford Big Block in a Sunday afternoon and the only tools he ever needed were a 9/16” socket wrench, a case of beer, and Howard Cosell on the transistor radio. Period. Hand me a wrench! What size? Whaduhya mean, what size? What are you, a girl? Nine sixteenth, dumbass. What size? Hell, just my luck, you’ll probably grow up to be a ballerina. Hand me another beer, Nancy. My dad could probably have fixed the Apollo 13 spaceship enroute to the moon with nothing more than a 9/16” socket wrench and a cold Pabst Blue Ribbon. Nothing on my truck is 9/16. Nothing. Every single fitting requires some weird special tool, a different special tool. I got this thing for removing fuel line couplings that scares the E36 M3 out of me. It looks like something a gynecologist would use, I keep wanting to tell the truck, “Scoot down, scoot down…you’re going to feel some pinching…”

Even if you have the correct tool, and you probably don’t, you have to be a humpbacked left-handed four-armed double-jointed midget circus contortionist with infrared vision, seven fingered hands like boneless chickens, forearms like Popeye, and the ability to metabolize a mouth full of brake fluid in order to get the damned thing into the proper position. It helps if you can swear for twenty minutes without repeating yourself. Auto engineers consider it a design failure if you can a) get both hands on the tool at the same time, or b) can touch the wrench and see the fitting at the same time.

Auto manufacturers have been building the internal combustion engine for over one hundred years. Consider this: where’s the oil filter? One hundred goddamned years, folks, and this is the best they can do. It’s not like they don’t know you have to change the berkeleying oil. But for one hundred years the oil filter has been a metal can screwed onto some inaccessible part of the engine that can not be removed without pouring motor oil all over your face and the garage floor. One hundred years and this is the best design they can come up with?

Flying cars?

When pigs fly, folks, when pigs fly.

If you need me, I’ll be in the garage.

Classic, beautiful, laughed out loud for real. Thank you, I mean it.

In reply to turboswede:

That was spectacular. Thanks.

Two Blondes walk into a bar....

You figured one of them would have seen it.

In reply to turboswede:

Bravo!

In a crowded city at a busy bus stop, a woman who was waiting for a bus was wearing a tight leather skirt . As the bus stoped and it was her turn to get on.She became aware that her skirt was too tight to allow here leg to come up to the hight of the first step of the bus.Slightly embarrassed and with a quick smile to the buss driver,She reached behind her to unzip her skirt a little,thinking that would give her enough slack to raise her leg . Again she tried to make the step,only to discover she couldnt. So, a little more embarrissed ,she again reached around her to unzip a little more,for the second time,attemted the step,and ,once again, much to her chargin, she could not raise her leg.With a little smile to the driver again she reached around and unziped a little more and again was unable to make the step.About this time a large Texan who was standing behind her picked her up easily by the waist and gently set her onto the step of the bus. She went Balistic and turned to the would -be good samaritan and screeched, "How Dare you touch my body!! I dont even know who you are !" The Texan smiled and drawled, " Well , Ma'am normaly I would agree with ya , But after you unzipped my fly three times , I kinda figured we was friends,""

MY LAST TRIP TO COSTCO

Yesterday I was at my local COSCO buying a large bag of Purina dog chow for my loyal pet, Jake, the Wonder Dog and was in the check-out line when a woman behind me asked if I had a dog. What did she think I had an elephant? So because I'm retired and have little to do, on impulse I told her that no, I didn't have a dog, I was starting the Purina Diet again. I added that I probably shouldn't, because I ended up in the hospital last time, but that I'd lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IVs in both arms. I told her that it was essentially a Perfect Diet and that the way that it works is, to load your pants pockets with Purina Nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The food is nutritionally complete so it works well and I was going to try it again. (I have to mention here that practically everyone in line was now enthralled with my story.) Horrified, she asked if I ended up in intensive care, because the dog food poisoned me. I told her no, I stepped off a curb to sniff a poodle's ass and a car hit me. I thought the guy behind her was going to have a heart attack he was laughing so hard. Cosco won't let me shop there anymore. Better watch what you ask retired people. They have all the time in the World to think of crazy things to say

Baby Cow 1: Mama, why am I named Daisy? Mama: When you were born, a daisy petal fell on your head. Baby Cow 2: Mama, why am I named Rose? Mama: When you were born, a rose petal fell on your head. Baby Cow 3: fakdsfja;ghfkad Mama: Shut up Cinderblock.

A little 80 year old lady had always wanted to join a local bikers club.

One day she goes up and knocks on a biker's door. A big, hairy bearded biker with tattoos all over his arms answers.

She proclaims, "I want to join your club."

The guy was quite amused, but explains that she needs to meet certain biker requirements in order to join the club . The biker asks; "Do you have a motorcycle?

The little old lady replies, "Yep, my bike's parked over there," and pointed to a flamed black Harley chopper in the driveway.

The biker asks, "Do you drink?"

The little old lady replies, "Yep, drink like a fish… beer mostly, whiskey when I’m shooting pool.. I'll drink everyone in your club under the table."

The biker is surprised but then asks, "Do you smoke?"

The little old lady replies, "Yep, smoke like a chimney. At least 2 packs of cigarettes and three joints a day , and cigars when I’m drinking whiskey and shooting pool”

The biker is very impressed and asks, "Last question, have you ever been picked up by the fuzz?"

The little old lady thinks for a minute and says, "Nope, but I've been swung around by my nipples a few times."