Super tare Aseneth. 
Jokes
Început de The Unknown, Dum 13 mai 2007 · 34 răspunsuri · 22.429 vizualizări
The rescue squad was called to the home of an elderly couple for an apparent heart attack the gentleman had. When the squad got there it was too late and the man had died.
While consoling the wife one of the rescuers noticed that the bed was a mess. He asked the lady what symptoms the man had suffered and if anything had precipitated the heart attack.
The lady replied, "Well, we were in the bed making love and he started moaning, groaning, thrashing about the bed, panting, and sweating. I thought he was coming, but I guess he was going."
In a British resturant, the client asks the chief:
- Are you sure this is British beef?
The chief :
- Of horse it is!
Aseneth a scris:Ode to The English Plural
nu am mai ras asa bine de muuuult 
super tare! 
Midgets don't get high, they get medium.
The Pope met with his Cardinals to discuss a proposal from Ariel Sharon, the Ex Prime Minister of Israel.
"Your Holiness", said one of his Cardinals, Mr. Sharon wants to challenge you to a game of golf to show the friendship and ecumenical spirit shared by the Jewish and Catholic faiths."
The Pope thought this was a good idea, but he had never held a golf club in his hand.
"Don't we have a Cardinal to represent me?" he asked.
"None that plays very well," a Cardinal replied.
"But he added,"there is a man named Jack Nicklaus, an American golfer who is a devout Catholic. We can offer to make him a Cardinal,then ask him to play Mr. Sharon as your personal representative. In addition to showing our spirit of cooperation, we'll also win the match."
Everyone agreed it was a good idea. The call was made.
Of course,Nicklaus was honored and agreed to play.
The day after the match, Nicklaus reported to the Vatican to inform the Pope of the result. "I have some good news and some bad news, your Holiness,"
said Nicklaus.
"Tell me the good news first, Cardinal Nicklaus,"
said the Pope.
"Well, your Holiness, I don't like to brag, but even though I've played some pretty terrific rounds of golf in my life, this was the best I have ever played, by far. I must have been inspired from above. My drives were long and true, my irons were accurate and purposeful, and my putting was perfect. With all due respect, my play was truly miraculous."
"There's bad news?", the Pope asked. "Yes," Nicklaus sighed. "I lost to Rabbi Tiger Woods by seven strokes...."
Jake was dying. His wife sat at the bedside.
He looked up and said weakly:
"I have something I must confess."
"There's no need to," his wife replied.
"No," he insisted,
"I want to die in peace.
I slept with your sister, your best friend,
her best friend, and your mother!"
"I know," she replied.
"Now just rest and let the poison work."
Student : "My father's name is Laughing and my mother's name is Smiling." .
Teacher : "You must be kidding!".
Student: "No, that's my brother! I'm Joking!"
via email, unknown surce:
"When I was a child the bathing suit for the mature figure was-boned, trussed and reinforced, not so much sewn as engineered. They were built to hold back and uplift, and they did a good job.
Today's stretch fabrics are designed for the prepubescent girl with a figure carved from a potato chip.
The mature woman has a choice: she can either go up front to the maternity department and try on a floral suit with a skirt, coming away looking like a hippopotamus that escaped from Disney's Fantasia, or she can wander around every run-of-the-mill department store trying to make a sensible choice from what amounts to a designer range of fluorescent rubber bands.
What choice did I have? I wandered around, made my sensible choice and entered the chamber of horrors known as the fitting room. The first thing I noticed was the extraordinary tensile strength of the stretch material. The Lycra used in bathing costumes was developed, I believe, by NASA to launch small rockets from a slingshot, which gives the added bonus that if you manage to actually lever yourself into one, you would be protected from shark attacks. Any shark taking a swipe at your passing midriff would immediately suffer whiplash.
I fought my way into the bathing suit, but as I twanged the shoulder strap in place I gasped in horror, my boobs had disappeared!
Eventually, I found one boob cowering under my left armpit. It took a while to find the other. At last I located it flattened beside my seventh rib.
The problem is that modern bathing suits have no bra cups. The mature woman is now meant to wear her boobs spread across her chest like a speed bump. I realigned my speed bump and lurched toward the mirror to take a full view assessment.
The bathing suit fit all right, but unfortunately it only fitted those bits of me willing to stay inside it. The rest of me oozed out rebelliously from top, bottom and sides. I looked like a lump of Playdoh wearing undersized cling wrap.
As I tried to work out where all those extra bits had come from, the prepubescent sales girl popped her head through the curtain, "Oh, there you are," she said, admiring the bathing suit.
I replied that I wasn't so sure and asked what else she had to show me. I tried on a cream crinkled one that made me look like a lump of masking tape, and a floral two-piece that gave the appearance of an oversized napkin in a serviette ring.
I struggled into a pair of leopard-skin bathers with ragged frills and came out looking like Tarzan's Jane, pregnant with triplets and having a rough day.
I tried on a black number with a midriff fringe and looked like a jellyfish in mourning.
I tried on a bright pink pair with such a high cut leg I thought I would have to wax my eyebrows to wear them.
Finally, I found a suit that fit, it was a two-piece affair with a shorts-style bottom and a loose blouse-type top. It was cheap, comfortable, and bulge-friendly, so I bought it. My ridiculous search had a successful outcome, I figured.
When I got it home, I found a label that read, "Material might become transparent in water."
So, if you happen to be on the beach or near any other body of water this year and I'm there too, I'll be the one in cut-off jeans and a T-shirt!"
An extra smart guy is trying to pull the leg of an insurance agent, and asks him:
“Do you do Penis Insurance?”
Agent,
“Do you do Penis Insurance?”
Agent,
“Yes, sir, we do Penis Insurance.”
Man:
Man:
“You replace it with a new one?”
Agent:
Agent:
“No, sir. Once it stops working, we guarantee free service to your wife for the rest of your Life.”