Two blondes walk into a bar, and each orders a drink. They go and sit down and start toasting and cheering, “51 days! 51 days!!”
About five minutes later, another blonde walks in, orders a drink, and joins the other two in the cheering.
Finally, a fourth blonde walks in with what looks like a cardboard picture. She puts the picture thing in the middle of the table and starts cheering with the others, “51 days! 51 days!!”
The bartender starts to get really curious, so he walks over to discover that the picture is a Cookie Monster puzzle. He walks over to one of the blondes and asks, “What on earth are you doing??”
“Well,” the blonde says, “everyone thinks blondes are so stupid, so we proved them wrong. On the box of this puzzle, it says 2-4 years, but we finished it in only 51 days!!”
A woman in our diet club was lamenting that she had gained weight.
She’d made her family’s favorite cake over the weekend, she reported, and they’d eaten half of it at dinner.
The next day, she said, she kept staring at the other half, until finally she cut a thin slice for herself. One slice led to another, and soon the whole cake was gone. The woman went on to tell us how upset she was with her lack of willpower, and how she knew her husband would be disappointed.
Everyone commiserated, until someone asked what her husband said when he found out.
She smiled. “He never found out. I made another cake and ate half!”
“Even if you are on the right track, you’ll get run over if you just sit there.”
As the coals from our barbecue burned down, our hosts passed out marshmallows and long roasting forks.
Just then, two fire trucks roared by, sirens blaring, lights flashing. They stopped at a house right down the block.
All twelve of us raced out of the back yard and down the street, where we found the owners of the blazing house standing by helplessly. They glared at us with looks of disgust.
Suddenly we realized why: we were all still holding our roasting forks with marshmallows on them.
“If someone complains that punning is the lowest form of humor, you can tell them that poetry is verse.”
Passing by the primate area one day, a zoo attendant happens to notice a chimpanzee sitting on a rock with an open book in either hand, looking first at one and then at the other. Upon closer examination, he identifies the books: the Bible and Darwin’s Origin of Species.
Curious, he asks the chimp, “What’s with the books?”
The chimp replies, “I’m trying to decide whether I’m my brother’s keeper or my keeper’s brother.”
As a senior at St. Cloud State University in Minnesota, I often engage women psychology majors in heated discussions about male-female relationships. Once, my friend Shelly and I got into a hot debate about whether men or women make the larger sacrifice of their respective gender characteristics when they get married. To my surprise, Shelly agreed with me that men give up far more than women.
“You’re right, Steve,” she said. “Men generally give up doing their cleaning, their cooking, their grocery shopping, their laundry.”
Rumors of the sale and an advertisement in the local paper were the main reasons for the long line that formed in front of the store by 8:30, the store’s opening time.
A small man pushed his way to the front of the line, only to be pushed back amid loud and colorful curses.
On the man’s second attempt, he was punched square in the jaw and knocked around a bit, then thrown to the end of the line again.
As he got up the second time, he said to the person at the end of the line:
“That does it! If they hit me one more time, I don’t open the store!”
Catching her in the act, I confronted our 3-year-old granddaughter, “Are you eating your little sister’s grapes?” I demanded.
“No,” she innocently replied, “I’m helping her share.”
A crafty old mountain lion used to hang around a ranch looking for stray cattle. One day he saw a bull off by himself and managed to kill it after a mighty battle. The bull was too heavy to drag off, so the mountain lion decided to just eat as much as he could hold. He ate and ate until he just couldn’t eat any more. This made him feel really good, so he let out a big roar. That made him feel even better, so he roared again. He kept it up until the rancher came by and shot him.
Moral: When you are full of bull, keep your mouth shut.