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Author Topic: Tickle Our Funny Bones  (Read 165573 times)

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Offline JollyRoger

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #775 on: February 22, 2008, 01:13:34 PM »
No matter how hard you try to push the envelope, remember it's only stationary.

Offline opiesilver

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #776 on: February 22, 2008, 04:10:41 PM »
Oh my gosh that is too funny!!!!   You get karma for that find.
Mediocre people are always at their best.

Offline ZWarrior

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #777 on: February 23, 2008, 10:44:46 PM »
ditto
--------------------------------
Zoë: Shepard, isn't the Bible kind of specific about killing?
Book: Very specific. It is, however, somewhat fuzzy around the area of kneecaps.

Offline JollyRoger

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #778 on: February 28, 2008, 10:13:38 AM »
http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showthread.php?t=160851

Caution: Network Television language is found in this post.
No matter how hard you try to push the envelope, remember it's only stationary.

Offline ZWarrior

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #779 on: February 28, 2008, 01:37:32 PM »
Here it is to save you clicking.  Be cautioned, MASSIVE CONVULSIONS are possible, just from laughing!

Quote
The horror of blimps
Last week while travelling I stopped at a Zany Brainy store and saw that they had a blimp for sale. It's called Airship Earth, and it's a great big balloon with a map of the Earth on it, and two propellors hanging from the bottom. You blow up the balloon with helium put batteries in it, and you have a radio controll indoor blimp.

I'd seen these things for sale in Sharper Image catalogs for $60-$75. At Zany Brainy it was on clearance for $15. What a deal!

Last night my wife was playing tennis and it was just my daughter and I at home. I bought a small helium tank from a party store, and last night we put the blimp together.

Let me tell you, it's quite a blimp. It's huge. The balloon has like a 3 ft diameter.

We blew it up with the tank attacched the gondola with the propellors, and put in batteries.

Then we balanced the blimp for neutral bouyancy with this putty that came with it, so it hangs in the air by itself neither rising nor falling.

It was easy and fun, and then I blew up another balloon and made Mickey Mouse helium voices for my daughter.

My three year old girl loved it. We flew the blimp all over the house, terrorized the dog, attacked the fish tank, and the controls were so easy my daughter could fly.

Let's face it, blimps are fun.

Alas, the fun had to end and my daughter had to go to sleep. I left the blimp floating in my office downstairs, my wife came home, and we went to bed, and slept the sleep of the righteous.

At this point it is important to know that my house has central heating. I have it configured to blow hot air out on the ground floor and take it in at the second floor to take advantage of the fact that heat rises.

The blimp which was up until this moment a fun toy here embarked on a career of evil. Using the artificial convection of my central heating, the blimp stealthily departed my office. It moved silently through the living and drifted to the staircase. Gliding wraithlike over the staircase it then entered the bedroom where my wife and I lay sleeping peacefully.

Running silently, and gliding six feet or so above the ground on invisible and tiny air currects it approached the bed.

In spite of it's noiseless passage, or perhaps because of it, I awoke. That doesn't really say it properly. Let me try again.

I awoke, the way you awake at 2:00 AM when your sleeping senses suddenly tell you without reason that the forces of evil on converging on you.

That still doesn't do it. Let me try one more time.

I awoke the way you awake when you suddenly know that there is a large levitating sinister presence hovering towards you with menacing intent through the maligant darkness.

Now sometimes I do wake up in the middle of the night thinking that there are large sinister and menacing things floating out of the darkness to do me and mine evil. Usually I open my eyes, look and listen carefully, decide it was a false alarm, and go back to sleep.

So, the fact that I awoke in such a manner was not all that unusual.

On this occasion I awoke to the sense that there was a large menacing presence approaching me silently out of the gloom, so I opened my eyes, and there it was! A LARGE SILENT MENACING PRESENCE WAS APPROACHING ME OUT OF THE GLOOM, AND IT COULD FLY!!!

Somewhere in the control room of my mind a fat little dwarf in a security outfit was paging through a Penthouse while smoking a cigar with his feet up on the table, watching the security monitors of my brain with his peripheral vision. Suddenly he saw the LARGE SILENT SINISTER MENACING FLOATING PRESENCE coming at me, and he pulled every panic switch and hit every alarm that my body has. A full decade's allotment of adrenaline was dumped into my bloodstream all at once. My metabolism went from "restful sleep mode" to HOLY S**T! FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE OR DIE!!!! mode" in a nanosecond. My heart went from twenty something beats per minute to about 240 even faster.

I always knew this was going to happen. I always knew that skepticism and science were mere psychological decorations and vanities. Deep in our alligator brains we all know that the world is just chock full of evil and monsters and sinister forces aligned against us, and it is only a matter of time until they show up. Evolution know this, too. It knows what to do when the silent terror comes at you from out of the dark.

When 50 million years worth of evolutionary survival instinct hits you all at once flat in the gut at 200 mph it is not a pleasant sensation.

Without volition I screamed my battle cry (which is indistinguishable to the sound a little girl makes when you drop a spider down her dress (not that I'd know what that sounds like,) and lept out of bed in my underwear.

I struck the approaching menace with all my strength and almost fell over at the total lack of resistance that a helium balloon offers when you punch the living *&#$ out of it with all the stength that sudden middle of the night terror produces.

It's trajectory took it straight into the ceiling fan which whipped it about the room at terrifying velocity.

Seeking a weapon, I ripped the alarm clock out of its plug and hurled it at the now High Velocity Menacing presence (breaking the clock and putting a nice hole in the wall.)

Somehow at this moment I suddenly realized that I was fighting the blimp, and not a monster. It might have been funny if I didn't truly and actually feel like I was having a legitimate heart-attack.

On quivering legs I went to the bathroom and literally gagged into the toilet while shaking uncontrollably with the shock of the reaction I'd had.

Unbeleivably, both my wife and daughter had completely slept through the incident. When I decided that I wasn't having a heart attack after all I went back into the bedroom and found the blimp which had somehow survived the incident.

I took it to the walk in closet and released it inside where it floated around with the air currents released from the vents in there. I closed the door, this sealing it in, and went back to bed. About 500 years later I fell asleep.

***

At about 7 am my wife awoke. She had been playing tennis and wasn't aware that we have assembled the blimp the previous evening, and that is was now floating around the the walk-in closet that she approached.

The dyndamic between the existing air currents of the closet and the suction caused by opening the door was just enough to give the blimp the appearance of an Evil Sinister Menace flying straight towards her.

This time the blimp did not survive the encounter, nor almost, did I, as I had to explain to my very angry spouse what motivated me to hide an evil lurking presence in the closet for her to find at 7 am.

I can order replacement balloons on the internet but I don't think I will.

Some blimps are better off dead.
--------------------------------
Zoë: Shepard, isn't the Bible kind of specific about killing?
Book: Very specific. It is, however, somewhat fuzzy around the area of kneecaps.

Offline snauzberries

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #780 on: March 02, 2008, 12:04:50 AM »

Offline ZWarrior

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #781 on: March 02, 2008, 10:23:25 PM »
did not expect that.  LOL
--------------------------------
Zoë: Shepard, isn't the Bible kind of specific about killing?
Book: Very specific. It is, however, somewhat fuzzy around the area of kneecaps.

Offline JollyRoger

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #782 on: March 03, 2008, 06:24:00 AM »
awsome!!!!!
No matter how hard you try to push the envelope, remember it's only stationary.

Offline snauzberries

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #783 on: March 06, 2008, 01:33:23 PM »

Offline Mr_Anderson

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #784 on: March 06, 2008, 04:42:28 PM »
Since you want to post videos, I'll post one of my favorites.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=B-Wd-Q3F8KM

Gotta love what one little noise can do!
Don't fear, the Rocket Master is here!

:RPG:

Offline opiesilver

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #785 on: March 14, 2008, 04:19:11 PM »
Badass Biker Bob wakes up at home with a huge hangover. He forces
himself to open his eyes, and the first thing he sees is a couple of aspirins and a glass of water on the side table.

He sits up and sees his clothing in front of him, all clean and
pressed. Bob looks around the room and sees that it is in perfect order, spotless, clean. So is the rest of the house.

He takes the aspirins and notices a note on the table: "Honey,
breakfast is on the stove, I left early to go shopping. Love you."

So he goes to the kitchen, and sure enough there is a hot breakfast and the morning newspaper. His son is also at the table, eating.

Bob asks, "Son, what happened last night?"

His son says, "Well, you came home after 3 A.M., drunk and delirious, broke some furniture, puked in the hallway, and gave yourself a black eye when you stumbled into the door."

Confused, Badass Bob asks, "So, why is everything in order and so
clean, and breakfast is on the table waiting for me?"

His son replies, "Oh, that! Mom dragged you to the bedroom, and when she tried to take your pants off, you said, "Lady, leave me alone, I'm married'!"
Mediocre people are always at their best.

Offline opiesilver

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #786 on: March 14, 2008, 06:07:42 PM »
Tools and their definitions.......


HAMMER: Originally employed as a weapon of war, the hammer nowadays is used as a kind of divining rod to locate expensive parts not far from the object we are trying to hit.

MECHANIC'S KNIFE: Used to open and slice through the contents of cardboard cartons delivered to your front door; works particularly well on boxes containing seats and motorcycle jackets.

ELECTRIC HAND DRILL: Normally used for spinning steel Pop rivets in their holes
until you die of old age, but it also works great for drilling mounting holes in fenders just above the brake line that goes to the rear wheel.

PLIERS: Used to round off bolt heads.

HACKSAW: One of a family of cutting tools built on the Ouija board principle.  It transforms human energy into a crooked, unpredictable motion, and the more you attempt to influence its course, the more dismal your future becomes.

VISE-GRIPS: Used to round off bolt heads. If nothing else is available, they can also be used to transfer intense welding heat to the palm of your hand.

OXYACETYLENE TORCH: Used almost entirely for lighting various flammable
objects in your garage on fire. Also handy for igniting the grease inside a brake
drum you're trying to get the bearing race out of.

WHITWORTH SOCKETS: Once used for working on older British cars and motorcycles, they are now used mainly for impersonating that 9/16 or 1/2 socket you've been searching for the last 15 minutes.

DRILL PRESS: A tall upright machine useful for suddenly snatching flat metal
bar stock out of your hands so that it smacks you in the chest and flings your beer across the room, splattering it against that freshly painted part you were drying.

WIRE WHEEL: Cleans rust off old bolts and then throws them somewhere under the
workbench with the speed of light. Also removes fingerprint whorls and hard-earned guitar calluses in about the time it takes you to say, "Ouch...."

HYDRAULIC FLOOR JACK: Used for lowering a motorcycle to the ground after you have installed your new front disk brake setup, trapping the jack handle firmly
under the front fender.

EIGHT-FOOT LONG DOUGLAS FIR 2X4: Used for levering a motorcycle upward off a hydraulic jack.

TWEEZERS: A tool for removing wood splinters.

PHONE: Tool for calling your neighbor to see if he has another hydraulic floor jack.

SNAP-ON GASKET SCRAPER: Theoretically useful as a sandwich tool for spreading mayonnaise; used mainly for getting dog-doo off your boot.

E-Z OUT BOLT AND STUD EXTRACTOR: A tool that snaps off in bolt holes and
is ten times harder than any known drill bit.

TIMING LIGHT: A stroboscopic instrument for illuminating grease buildup.

TWO-TON HYDRAULIC ENGINE HOIST: A handy tool for testing the tensile strength of ground straps and brake lines you may have forgotten to disconnect.

CRAFTSMAN 1/2 x 16-INCH SCREWDRIVER: A large motor mount prying tool that inexplicably has an accurately machined screwdriver tip on the end without the handle.

BATTERY ELECTROLYTE TESTER: A handy tool for transferring sulfuric acid from a car battery to the inside of your toolbox after determining that your battery is dead as a doornail, just as you thought.

AVIATION METAL SNIPS: See hacksaw.

TROUBLE LIGHT: The mechanic's own tanning booth. Sometimes called a drop light, it is a good source of vitamin D, "the sunshine vitamin," which is not otherwise found under motorcycles at night. Health benefits aside, it's main purpose is to consume 40-watt light bulbs at about the same rate that 105-mm howitzer shells might be used during, say, the first few hours of the Battle of the Bulge. More often dark than light, its name is somewhat misleading.

PHILLIPS SCREWDRIVER: Normally used to stab the lids of old-style paper-and-tin oil cans and splash oil on your shirt; can also be used, as the name implies, to round off Phillips screw heads.

AIR COMPRESSOR: A machine that takes energy produced in a coal-burning power plant 200 miles away and transforms it into compressed air that travels by hose to a Chicago Pneumatic impact wrench that grips rusty bolts last tightened 60 years ago by someone in Springfield, and rounds them off.

PRY BAR: A tool used to crumple the metal surrounding that clip or bracket you needed to remove in order to replace a 50 cent part.

HOSE CUTTER: A tool used to cut hoses 1/2 inch too short.
Mediocre people are always at their best.

Offline ZWarrior

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #787 on: March 18, 2008, 09:45:31 AM »
I read User friendly everyday to keep the funny in my work day.  Today the author, Illiad, posted a story from before he became a webtoonist.

I quote it here to save you the browsing...

Quote
This isn't really an opinionated item per se. It's more of a re-telling of a time when I was very opinionated about the Canadian penal system. This is also one of my most requested stories to tell.

A long time ago I was thinking seriously of joining the RCMP, Canada's much vaunted and smashingly dressed federal police force. I had a bunch of useful educational credits and other advantages that would help my application, and at the time I was pretty athletic. (Sidebar: Cartooning is not conducive to building your cardio.) But I was also aware that signing up with the Force meant that I'd be committing myself to quite a life change, similar to joining the armed forces.

So I decided to stick my big toe in the water, so to speak, before diving into the lake. I applied for, competed for, and succeeded in becoming employed by the British Columbia Correctional Service. I specifically applied to the province's (at the time, only) max-security remand centre, because I wanted to experience the worst of the worst, the hardest environment available in a provincial jail. Looking back, it was both a good and bad experience.

I had always felt that prisoners in Canada's penal system were coddled and given benefits that law-abiding Canadians below the poverty line couldn't afford to enjoy. Having seen first-hand what it's like in a modern provincial jail, I decided that "coddled" perhaps wasn't the right adjective. Not even close. Thus ends the "opinionated" part of this news item. What follows is far more entertaining and eye-opening.

For a while I was working in Records, and as the junior officer I was given all of the secondary jobs, assisting the senior staff. During the week, inmates who were going to court (this is a remand centre, where inmates are not convicted but are remanded into custody) would come down to Records and be processed out to their court dates. They'd be escorted by the B.C. Sheriff's service (sheriffs in Canada are court officers who handle prisoner transfers) once processed out of the jail. Prior to being handed over to the sheriffs, all of the inmates were frisked. They're permitted to bring nothing with them but a comb. Many times they'd try to smuggle a pack of playing cards, or tobacco, or even drugs. Cigarettes were the contraband of choice.

The procedure was to have officers frisk the inmates, and if an officer suspected than an inmate had stashed something in their underwear or any other place that was inconvenient, they would direct that inmate to a skin-frisk team. I was on one of those teams one fateful morning.

So the inmate comes over and we direct him into a changing room. I was paired with a sheriff, a big bear of a guy with a Wery Stronk Slavic Accent. Boris takes the lead position and stands inside the changing room with the inmate, where he gives directions and hand-checks the items of clothing as they're handed back. I stood at the door as an official witness so that the inmate couldn't falsely claim he was assaulted or abused. I was also there as backup.

Boris gives the inmate the usual litany: "Takink off socks. Pliz to be turnink them inside-out. Hand to me. Da. Takink off pants..." and so forth. Finally, the inmate is down to his institution-issued boxers. "Takink off underwear. Inside-out. Hand to me. Wery good. Run fingers through hair. Open mouth. Liftink tongue."

You know what's next. It's always left for last and it's unpleasant for searcher and searchee.

"Turnink around pliz. Bendink over. Spreadink chiks."

And so the inmate does this, exposing his chocolate starfish. Now, I'm not particularly experienced in medical matters, but this inmate had the absolute worst case of hemorrhoids EVAR. There was this loop sticking out of his bung that had to be an inch or two long. Boris' eyes light up, and he says, "AH HA! CONTRABAND!" And he grabs the loop between thumb and forefinger and yanks.

The inmate made no sound. He just collapsed like a sack of rice to the tile floor, twitching. Me, I'm desperately gasping for breath from laughing so hard. I'm leaning against the doorframe, trying to key my mike, and I manage to squeak out "Medical, assistance, in, Records, please." And Sheriff Boris, dear Boris, is standing over the inmate, puzzled.

I've finally slid to the floor myself, still laughing, but I'm at the point where I have no air left in my lungs. The only sound coming from me is a "click click click" as my diaphragm twitches back and forth. Right at that point, right at that godforsaken point, Boris says to the inmate, "Hunh. You should have somebody look at that."

And all I could do was convulse.

Next time: More opinion, fewer hemorrhoids.

Sounds like something Opie would do.   :smilegrin:
--------------------------------
Zoë: Shepard, isn't the Bible kind of specific about killing?
Book: Very specific. It is, however, somewhat fuzzy around the area of kneecaps.

Offline opiesilver

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #788 on: March 19, 2008, 07:11:55 AM »
I can't breath....OMG that was too funny.  Karma for you!!!
Mediocre people are always at their best.

Offline ZWarrior

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #789 on: March 19, 2008, 10:05:15 AM »
I thought you might like that.  :D
--------------------------------
Zoë: Shepard, isn't the Bible kind of specific about killing?
Book: Very specific. It is, however, somewhat fuzzy around the area of kneecaps.

Offline n1c

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Mess With The Best And You'll Die Like The Rest ! ! !

Offline ZWarrior

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #791 on: May 29, 2008, 04:04:45 PM »
Sick Leave

I urgently needed a few days off work. But I knew the Boss would not allow me to take leave. I thought that maybe if I acted "Crazy," then he would tell me to take a few days off.

So, I hung upside-down on the ceiling & made funny noises. My co-worker (who's blonde) asked me what I was doing. I told her that I was pretending to be a light bulb, so the Boss might think I was "Crazy" & give me a few days off.

A few minutes later, the Boss came into the office and asked,

"What in the name of good GOD are you doing?"

I told him I was a light bulb.

He said, "You are clearly stressed out. Go home and recuperate for a couple of days."

I jumped down & walked out of the office...
 
When my co-worker (the blonde) followed me, the Boss asked her "...and where do you think you're going?!"

(You're gonna love this....)

She said, "I'm going home too, I can't work in the dark!!"
--------------------------------
Zoë: Shepard, isn't the Bible kind of specific about killing?
Book: Very specific. It is, however, somewhat fuzzy around the area of kneecaps.

Offline ZWarrior

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #792 on: June 11, 2008, 10:50:32 AM »
The Husband Store

A store that sells husbands has just opened in New York City, where a woman may go to choose a husband. 

Among the instructions at the entrance is a description of how the store operates.

Welcome to the Husband Store. You may visit the store ONLY ONCE !

You may choose any man from a particular floor, or you may choose to go up a floor, but you cannot go back down except to exit the Building!

So, a woman goes to the Husband Store to find a husband . .

On the first floor the sign on the door reads:
Floor 1 - These men have jobs and love the Lord.

The second floor sign reads:
Floor 2 - These men have jobs, love the Lord, and love  kids.

The third floor sign reads:
Floor 3 - These men have jobs, love the Lord, love kids, and are extremely good looking.
"Wow," she thinks, but feels compelled to keep going.

She goes to the fourth floor and sign reads:
Floor 4 - These men have jobs, love the Lord, love kids, are drop- dead good looking and help with the housework.
"Oh, mercy me!" she exclaims, "I can hardly stand it!"

Still, she goes to the fifth floor and sign reads:
Floor 5 - These men have jobs, love the Lord, love kids, are drop- dead gorgeous, help with the  housework, and have a strong romantic streak.

She is so tempted to stay, but she goes to the sixth  floor and the sign reads:
Floor 6 - You are visitor 4,363,012 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please.


Thank you for shopping at the Husband Store. Watch your step as you exit the building, and have a nice day!
--------------------------------
Zoë: Shepard, isn't the Bible kind of specific about killing?
Book: Very specific. It is, however, somewhat fuzzy around the area of kneecaps.

Offline opiesilver

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #793 on: June 12, 2008, 05:23:10 AM »
YOU MIGHT BE A REDNECK JEDI IF.....

You ever heard the phrase, "May the force be with y'all."

You have ever used your light saber to open a bottle of Bud Light.

At least one wing of your X-Wings is primer colored.

You have ever had a land-speeder up on blocks in your yard.

You have ever had your R-2 unit use its self-defense electro-
shock thingy to get the barbecue grill to light.

You ever fantasized about Princess Leah wearing Daisy Duke shorts.

You have a cousin who bears a strong resemblance to Chewbacca.

If you hear . . . "Luke, I am your father...and your uncle."
Mediocre people are always at their best.

Offline opiesilver

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #794 on: June 12, 2008, 05:42:38 AM »
Charlie was in trouble. He forgot his wedding anniversary. His wife was
really angry.  She told him, "Tomorrow morning, I expect to find a gift in
the driveway that goes from 0 to 200 in less than 6 seconds AND IT BETTER BE
THERE!!"   
 
The next morning, Charlie got up early and left for work. When his wife woke
up, she looked out the window, and sure enough there was a box gift-wrapped
in the middle of the driveway .

Confused, the  wife put on her robe and ran out to the driveway, and brought
the box back in the house. She opened it and found a brand-new bathroom
scale!!
 
Charlie has been missing since Friday . Please pray for him!
Mediocre people are always at their best.

Offline (A!)Rico

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #795 on: June 14, 2008, 12:20:41 AM »




Grandmas Don't Know Everything...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Little Tony was staying with his grandmother for a few days.
He'd been playing outside with the other kids for a while when he
came into the house and asked her, 'Grandma, what's that called when
two people sleep in the same room and one is on top of the other?'

She was a little taken back, but she decided to just tell him the
truth. 'It's called sexual intercourse, darling.' Little Tony just
said, 'Oh, OK,' and went back outside to play with the other kids.
A few minutes later he came back in and said angrily, 'Grandma, it
isn't called sexual intercourse. It's called Bunk Beds. And Jimmy's
Mom wants to talk to you.'




 Jake was dying....

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jake was dying.

His wife sat at his bedside.

He looked up and said weakly, "I have something I must confess to you."

"There's no need," his wife replied.

"No," Jake insisted, with tears in his eyes, "I want to die in peace. I have to tell you....I slept with your sister, your best friend, her best friend, and your mother!"

"I know, I know," she replied. "Now, Jake, please just rest and let the poison work."




Everything has a gender!

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You may not know this but many nonliving things have a gender.

Ziploc Bags are Male, because they hold everything
in, but you can see right through them.

Copiers are Female, because once turned off; it
takes a while to warm them up again. It's an effective
reproductive device if the right buttons are pushed,
but can wreak havoc if the wrong buttons are pushed.

A Tire is Male, because it goes bald and it's often
over-inflated.

A Hot Air Balloon is Male, because, to get it to go
anywhere, you have to light a fire under it, and of
course, there's the hot air part.

Sponges are Female, because they're soft,
squeezable and retain water.

A Web Page is Female, because it's always getting
hit on.

A Subway is Male, because it uses the same old
lines to pick people up.

An Hourglass is Female, because over time, the
weight shifts to the bottom.

A Hammer is Male, because it hasn't changed much
over the last 5,000 years, but it's handy to have
around.

A Remote Control is Female. Ha! You thought it'd
be male, didn't you? But consider this - it gives a
man pleasure, he'd be lost without it, and while he
doesn't always know the right buttons to push, he
keeps trying!



Family custom

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An Irishman walks into a bar in Dublin, orders three pints of Guinness and sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more. The bartender asks him, "You know, a pint goes flat after I draw it; it would taste better if you bought one at a time." The Irishman replies, "Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in America, the other in Australia, and I'm here in Dublin. When we all left home, we promised that we'd drink this way to remember the days when we drank together." The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there.

The Irishman becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way: ordering three pints and drinking them in turn. One day, he comes in and orders two pints. All the other regulars notice and fall silent. When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, "I don't want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your great loss." The Irishman looks confused for a moment, then a light dawns in his eye and he laughs. "Oh, no," he says, "Everyone's fine. I've just quit drinking."

Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference in the world. But, the Marines don't have that problem.
Ronald Reagan, President of the United States; 1985

Offline opiesilver

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #796 on: June 14, 2008, 08:04:35 AM »
Oh my goodness, Rico has returned!!!!!  Nice to see you again.
Mediocre people are always at their best.

Offline ZWarrior

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #797 on: June 14, 2008, 01:58:48 PM »
Man, he always has the funnies.  loved the objects list.
--------------------------------
Zoë: Shepard, isn't the Bible kind of specific about killing?
Book: Very specific. It is, however, somewhat fuzzy around the area of kneecaps.

Offline (A!)Rico

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #798 on: June 15, 2008, 04:25:07 AM »
Hey guys just thought i would drop by and see how things are going, im in Iraq right now but ive only got about 3months left on my deployment before i get to come home again, should be about mid to late september. Itll be nice coming back with some cash, ive had the same computer now for about 4years so itll be time to update it.
Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference in the world. But, the Marines don't have that problem.
Ronald Reagan, President of the United States; 1985

Offline ZWarrior

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Re: Tickle Our Funny Bones
« Reply #799 on: June 15, 2008, 11:51:57 AM »
Dude, let me know if there is anything we can do for you!
--------------------------------
Zoë: Shepard, isn't the Bible kind of specific about killing?
Book: Very specific. It is, however, somewhat fuzzy around the area of kneecaps.

 

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