Highway Dragons :: Funny Jokes, Stories, Poetry; Humour

The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife goodbye and said, "Well, I'm off now. The man should be here soon."
Half an hour later, just by chance, a door-to-door baby photographer happened to ring the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. "Good morning, Ma'am", he said, "I've come to..."
"Oh, no need to explain," Mrs. Smith cut in, embarrassed, "I've been expecting you."
"Have you really?" said the photographer. "Well, that's good. Did you know babies are my specialty?"
"Well that's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat".
After a moment she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?"
"Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch, and perhaps a couple on the bed. And sometimes the living room floor is fun. You can really spread out there."
"Bathtub, living room floor? No wonder it didn't work out for Harry and me!"
"Well, Ma'am, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I'm sure you'll be pleased with the results."
"My, that's a lot!", gasped Mrs. Smith.
"Ma'am, in my line of work a man has to take his time. I'd love to be In and out in five minutes, but I'm sure you'd be disappointed with that."
"Don't I know it," said Mrs. Smith quietly.
The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of his baby pictures. "This was done on the top of a bus," he said.
"Oh, my word!" Mrs. Smith exclaimed, grasping at her throat.
"And these twins turned out exceptionally well - when you consider their mother was so difficult to work with."
"She was difficult?" asked Mrs. Smith.
"Yes, I'm afraid so. I finally had to take her to the park to get the job done right. People were crowding around four and five deep to get a good look"
"Four and five deep?" said Mrs. Smith, her eyes wide with amazement.
"Yes", the photographer replied. "And for more than three hours, too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling - I could hardly concentrate, and when darkness approached I had to rush my shots. Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just had to pack it all in."
Mrs. Smith leaned forward. "Do you mean they actually chewed on your, uh...equipment?"
"It's true, Ma'am, yes.. Well, if you're ready, I'll set-up my tripod and we can get to work right away."
"Tripod?"
"Oh yes, Ma'am. I need to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It's much too big to be held in the hand very long."
Mrs. Smith fainted

A skinny little white guy steps into an elevator, looks up and sees this HUGE black guy standing next to him.
The big guy sees the little guy staring at him looks down and says:
"7 feet tall, 350 pounds, 20 inch d!ck, 3 pound testicles, Turner Brown."
The white man faints and falls to the floor.
The big guy kneels down and brings him to, shaking him. The big guy says: Hey buddy, what's wrong with you?"
In a weak voice the little guy says, "What EXACTLY did you say to me?"
The big dude says, "I saw your curious look and figured I'd just give you the answers to the questions everyone always asks me …… I'm 7 feet tall, I weigh 350 pounds, I have a 20 inch d!ck, my testicles weigh 3 pounds each, and my name is Turner Brown."
The small guy says: "Turner Brown? … Sweet Jesus, I thought you said, Turn around!

A motorcycle cop was rushed to the hospital with an inflamed appendix.
The doctors operated and advised him that all was well; however, the patrolman kept feeling something pulling at the hairs in his crotch.
Worried that it might be a second surgery and the doctors hadn't told him about it, he finally got enough energy to pull his hospital gown up enough so he could look at what was making him so uncomfortable.
Taped firmly across his pubic hair and private parts were three wide strips of adhesive tape, the kind that doesn't come off easily --- if at all.
Written on the tape in large black letters was the sentence,
'Get well soon. From the nurse in the Subaru you pulled over last week.'
__________________________________________

CHARLIES CHAT - APRIL 2011

Hey you okes, you know, we check ourselves out in the mirror every morning and as we stand there scratching our bums and picking our noses trying to work out how many days it is to the weekend, we don’t actually notice that we’re getting older by the day. But every now and then we meet an old buddy that we haven’t checked in years and we get a moer of a skrik because to us, the oke’s suddenly gotten all wrinkly. But hey, we’re all of us getting wrinklier by the day.
Now of course us bikers are moer of a lucky because alcohol has great preservative properties and if you check around at most okes at bike rallies, especially after you’ve had a few dops, you will notice that we don’t get old as quickly as cabbie drivers. The Metro-Cop okes are moer of a jealous of our ability to stay so young looking and that’s why they make our lives a misery.
Anyway, a few Saturdays ago, a whole bunch of us bikers were busy sitting at the Impala Rally in the sun discussing how the torque from our bonies keeps twisting our frames out of shape and how we’ve all had to weld in extra gussets to keep our bikes riding in a straight line when I notice that there’s an oke standing in my sun quietly checking me out.
I look up and squint at the oke but it’s quite hard to make out who it is and then the idea comes to me that this was mos exactly what the old cowboys in the wild-west used to do to each other before they went for their guns. Once when I was still in Standard Nine at Dawnview High School, I had tried this trick of attacking from out of the sun when another oke and me were having a barney behind the bicycle-sheds. But it didn’t matter how much I maneuvered myself around, the best I could do with the sun behind me was to eventually get my shadow to fall on the oke’s shoes. In fact the last thing I remember seeing that afternoon was my shadow falling on his shoes…
Anyway this oke keeps standing there checking me out like he knows me and because of all the ideas of me getting bliksemmed again starting to crawl around in my brain, I get up to see who it is.
But even when I check the oke out closely I still don’t recognize him and I'm just about to sit down again when he says my name and so I take another look at his face and then that I flashed on who he was, but at the same time get a moer of a skrik because he was very different from when I saw him last…
It was old Pieter Wasserman that we used to ride around with when we were still lighties at school. He wasn’t such a good rider and used to bliksem off his boney quite a lot. Eventually after a really bad crash in the middle of winter, his mom arrived at the scene in her car, emptied five litres of petrol over the boney and sommer set it on fire.
As we stood there warming our hands over the burning embers, we watched the car pull away with Pieter’s face pressed against the back window mouthing the words, ‘I’ll be back!’ but we all knew deep inside that with the oke’s great inability to ride a boney, that his mother was doing him a favour…
And now here he was back again standing right in front of me at a bike rally and so he obviously did come back as he had promised all those years ago. But he wasn’t the same Pieter that we knew from the old days. He was different.
Anyway, I grab the oke by the hand and give it a good shake and tune him that its good to check him back in the saddle again and that its been a long time and then I stand back and check him out again and ask him what boney he's riding and he tunes that he's got himself a Buell and then I take another look at how changed he’d become and with a sincere look in my eye I tune him, ‘Hey my china, are you really sure that you’re okay because you don’t look like you're really okay…’
'No! No! I'm fine.’ he says.
But really you okes, he did not look so great especially when I looked down at his wooden leg and so I pointed to this wooden leg of his with a hinge in the middle where his knee should’ve been and I say to him, ‘Hey man, and this? What happened to your leg?’
The oke checks down at his leg, looks back up at me and starts telling me the story. ‘Hey man, when my mom wouldn’t let me get another bike again after she burnt the old one, I decided that life wasn’t worth living if I couldn’t ride a bike anymore and so I left home and sommer got myself a Seven-Fifty Honda. Life was great until a taxi rode over me one Friday night in the rain. The doctors couldn’t save my leg and gave me this wooden one and now I get around fine. I can ride my boney and can even walk quite fast and everything.’
I checked deep into the oke’s smiling face but wasn’t all that convinced because where the oke’s hand used to be was now only a sharp claw-like thing. It was time to stop beating around the bush.
'But what about your hand?’ I asked. ‘Where’s your hand? All you’ve got is this claw. How can you ride your boney with only a claw?’
Pieter just smiled. ‘About two years ago,’ he says, ‘I stuck my hand out to turn off the highway when another boney came past so fast that it sommer cut my hand clean off. Again the doctors did all they could, but I didn’t have much money and so all they could do was fit this sharp claw. But it works and with lots of practice I’ve learnt how to pull the clutch in and everything.’
Now I really didn’t want to go and mention the oke’s eye-patch, but now I had to. ‘But Pieter, what happened to your eye?’
'Ag, that’s nothing.’ he says, ‘I was changing my bike’s oil and some oil fell into my eye.’
'But oil won't make you lose your eye. Why didn’t you just wipe the oil away?’ I asked the oke with a bit of a frown on my face.
,Hey I tried,’ says Pieter. ‘But it was my first day of learning how to use the claw when it happened…’
________________________________________________________________________________________________________

HOW TO BE A GRACIOUS BITCH
Jennifer's wedding day was fast approaching. Nothing could dampen her excitement - not even her parent's nasty divorce.
Her mother had found the PERFECT dress to wear, and would be the best-dressed mother-of-the-bride ever!
A week later, Jennifer was horrified to learn that her father's new, young wife had bought the exact same dress as her mother! Jennifer asked her father's new young wife to exchange it, but she refused. ''Absolutely not! I look like a million bucks in this dress, and I'm wearing it,'' she replied.
Jennifer told her mother who graciously said, ''Never mind sweetheart. I'll get another dress. After all, it's your special day.''
A few days later, they went shopping, and did find another gorgeous dress for her mother. When they stopped for lunch, Jennifer asked her mother, ''Aren't you going to return the other dress? You really don't have another occasion where you could wear it."
Her mother just smiled and replied, ''Of course I do, dear.....I'm wearing it to the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding.''

NOW I ASK YOU - IS THERE A WOMAN OUT THERE, ANYWHERE, WHO WOULDN'T ENJOY THIS STORY?

Women are like phones: They like to be held, talked to, and touched often. But push the wrong button and your ass is disconnected!

This is even funnier when you realize it's real!
Next time you have a bad day at work think of this guy. Bob is a commercial saturation diver for Global Divers in Louisiana ...
He performs underwater repairs on offshore drilling rigs.
Below is an E-mail he sent to his sister. She then sent it to radio station 103.5 FM in Indiana, who was sponsoring a worst
job experience contest.
Needless to say, she won. Read his letter below.

~Hi Sue,
Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother.
Last week I had a bad day at the office. I know you've been feeling down lately at work, so I thought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it's not so bad after all. Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job. As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea. I wear a suit to the office. It's a wet suit. This time of year the water is quite cool. So what we do to
keep warm is this: We have a diesel powered industrial water heater. This $20,000 piece of equipment sucks the water out of the sea. It heats it to a delightful temperature. It then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose, which is taped to the air hose.

Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I've used it several times with no complaints. What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, is
take the hose and stuff it down the back of my wet suit..
This floods my whole suit with warm water. It's like working in a Jacuzzi. Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my butt started to itch.
So, of course, I scratched it. This only made things worse. Within a few seconds my ass started to burn. I
pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was done. In agony I realized what had happened. The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit. Now, since I don't have any hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn't stick to it, however, the crack of my ass was not as fortunate.
When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into the crack of my ass.
I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the communicator. His instructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with five other divers, were all laughing hysterically.. Needless to say, I aborted the dive.
I was instructed to make three agonizing in-water decompression stops totaling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression. When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing but my brass helmet. As I climbed out of the water, the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my butt as soon as I got in the chamber.
The cream put the fire out, but I couldn't sh*t for two days because my ass was swollen shut.
So, next time you're having a bad day at work, think about how much worse it would be if you had a jellyfish shoved up your ass. Now repeat to yourself, 'I love my job, I love my job, I love my job.'
Whenever you have a bad day, ask yourself, is this a jellyfish bad day?
May you NEVER have a jellyfish bad day! !!!! Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift. ~

Isn’t it funny how even though an oke never wants to actually find out about some stuff in his life, sometimes he ends up learning about those things anyway.

For instance, okes in cars live one kind of life while us okes on bonies live another kind of life. We don’t wanna know about them and they don’t care about us. We check them out hiding behind their car windscreens and they check us riding out in the wind. We scheme how dof they are and they check us out and probably scheme the same.

But it doesn’t matter how stupid a cabbie driver is, he can’t ignore that fact that if us okes on bonies go to the shops we can sommer park anywhere we want to, while they have to go riding up and down checking for empty spots and if they do find one, get some oke coming out of nowhere and then as if this oke’s suddenly got himself an Advanced Driver’s Diploma, tunes them exactly where and how they must now park their cars. Us okes on bonies can sommer pull in anywhere and if we’ve got our lekker grumpy biker-face on, nobody dares to tune us how to park.

Also if us okes on bonies check that there’s a moer of a traffic jam on the highway, we don’t even need to slow down. All we do is kap down a gear, aim for the gap in between the cabbies, and skiet right on through. Like I tuned you, us okes on bonies don’t need to learn or know anything from car-drivers.

But then the other day things almost changed for me big time when I checked this ad that an oke from the North had put into the newspaper to sell his washing machine that was sitting in his back yard and was still working lekker.

My old Defy Automaid had been running for more than twenty-three years now and had finally croaked. Seven years ago I’d already changed the electric switches on the front for a Suzuki GS1000S switch-gear cluster that I picked up from Bike Hospital. I rigged it so that if I put the left flicker on I could tune the machine to go from ‘Auto’ to ‘Extended Spin’ and if I clicked from ‘Brights’ to ‘Dim’ then I could go from ‘Normal’ to ‘Long wash’ and on ‘Dip’ I could even do a ‘Quick-wash’ if I suddenly needed clean under-rods for graft the next day.

Well to cut a long story short, I phone the oke and he says that I can come round and pick the machine up any time because where he lives in the north of Jo’burg the okes don’t smaak to buy second-hand washing machines all that much, but then adds that I must come quickly to fetch it because it’s already standing on his pavement.

Forty minutes later me and the Triumph are parked in front of the oke’s gate with a whole lot of tie-downs and a lekker wide plank so that I don’t stuff up my bike’s seat.

The oke checks me and the boney out a bit skeef, but after I explain to him about how strong my Triumph with the Guzzi pistons is, he even helps me to lift the machine onto the back of the bike and holds it steady while I pull the tie-downs tight. Five minutes later, me and the Triumph are skieting back home along the highway at one fifty.

So now as usual with all this stupid road building nonsense going on I’ve hardly gone two kays down the N3 South when up ahead I check this moer of a traffic jam coming up. As usual I kick down a gear, head for the gap in between the cars and open the throttle wide.

My mirrors aren’t grafting all that lekker now because all I can check in them are the two sides of my new washing machine so I hit the clamps hard because I’ve first gotta check if I can fit between the cabbies. While I’m still busy slipping the clutch and checking both sides to see if the machine will touch any-thing, from behind I hear ‘Beep-beep’. I turn and check behind the machine and there’s this oke on his Honda 125 busy on his hooter tuning me to get out of the way.

So what am I now supposed to do? I can’t get off the Triumph and give the oke a good snot-klap for being impatient because then my boney and the machine would both moer over, and so I’m forced to move into a car lane so that the 125 can skiet on past.

The okes in their cars are crawling along at about two kays an hour and now that I’m going at the same speed as them I can check exactly what they’re all up to. Some okes are listening to the radio while a few chicks are putting on make-up and doing their hair. Two old toppies are doing their crosswords and some okes grazing breakfast.

And that’s when I began to realize that maybe these okes which I’d always schemed were trying to kill us bikers were actually maybe just normal okes like you and me trying to lead normal ordinary lives.

Cruising along slowly in all the petrol smoke made me feel a moer of a lot warmer than if I was cruising at my normal speed and I started feeling lekker cozy. One tannie checked me out and I gave her a lekker smile and a wave. Hey, riding slowly wasn’t so bad.

But then an ugly thing happened. The tannie pulled out her cell phone and then I noticed that one of the okes eating breakfast answered his phone and then he also started checking me out. The next thing I know all the okes in cabbies are talking on their phones and checking me out and I could see by the looks on their faces and the way they were nodding that they were all agreeing about something.

I was still smiling away enjoying riding with all my new buddies when the first of the cabbies pulled in close and bliksemed my right mirror off. Then from another cabbie came in and moered the left one off. Then the cabbies started changing places and one by one came swerving in and swearing at me and showing me finger signs.

Slowly it all began to sink in. These okes had finally got a biker trapped in amongst them and now it was pay-back time for all the things we biker okes had ever done to them. Hey, Jo’burg cabbie drivers carry a lot of anger…

THREE Hillbillies are sitting on a porch shootin' the breeze.
1st Hillbilly says: 'My wife sure is stupid!...She bought an air
conditioner. '
2nd Hillbilly says: 'Why is that stupid?'
1st Hillbilly says: 'We ain't got no 'lectricity!'
2nd Hillbilly says: 'That's nothin'! My wife is so stupid, she bought one of them new fangled warshin ' machines!'
1st Hillbilly says: 'Why is that so stupid?'
2nd Hillbilly says: ''Cause we ain't got no plummin'!'
3rd Hillbilly says: 'That ain't nuthin'! My wife is dumber than both yerwifes put together! I was going through her purse the other day lookin' fer some change, and I found 6 condoms in thar.'
1st and 2nd Hillbillies say: 'Well, what's so dumb about that?'
3rd Hillbilly says: 'She ain't got no pecker.

TOOL DESCRIPTIONS FOR THOSE NOT TOO SURE WHAT THEY ACTUALLY DO!
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, denting the freshly-painted project which you had carefully set in the corner where nothing could get to it.

WIRE WHEEL: Cleans paint off bolts and then throws them somewhere under the workbench with the speed of light . Also removes fingerprints and hard-earned calluses from fingers in about the time it takes you to say, 'Oh sh--!'

SKILL SAW: A portable cutting tool used to make studs too short.

PLIERS: Used to round off bolt heads. Sometimes used in the creation of blood-blisters.

BELT SANDER: An electric sanding tool commonly used to convert minor touch-up jobs into major refinishing jobs.

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.

VICE-GRIPS: Generally used after pliers to completely 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 shop on fire. Also handy for igniting the grease inside the wheel hub out of which you want to remove a bearing brace.

TABLE SAW: A large stationary power tool commonly used to launch wood projectiles for testing wall integrity.

HYDRAULIC FLOOR JACK: Used for lowering an automobile to the ground after you have installed your new brake shoes , trapping the jack handle firmly under the bumper..

BAND SAW: A large stationary power saw primarily used by most shops to cut good aluminum sheet into smaller pieces that more easily fit into the trash can after you cut on the inside of the line instead of the outside edge.

TWO-TON ENGINE HOIST: A tool for testing the maximum tensile strength of everything you forgot to disconnect.

PHILLIPS SCREWDRIVER: Normally used to stab the vacuum seals under lids or for opening old-style paper-and-tin oil cans and splashing oil on your shirt; but can also be used, as the name implies, to strip out Phillips screw heads.

STRAIGHT SCREWDRIVER: A tool for opening paint cans. Sometimes used to convert common slotted screws into non-removable screws and butchering your palms.

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 make hoses too short.

HAMMER: Originally employed as a weapon of war, the hammer nowadays is used as a kind of divining rod to locate the most expensive parts adjacent the object we are trying to hit.

UTILITY KNIFE: Used to open and slice through the contents of cardboard cartons delivered to your front door; works particularly well on contents such as seats, vinyl records, liquids in plastic bottles, collector magazines, refund checks, and rubber or plastic parts. Especially useful for slicing work clothes, but only while in use.

SON-OF-A-BITCH TOOL: (A personal favorite!!) Any handy tool that you grab and throw across the garage while yelling 'Son of a BITCH!' at the top of your lungs. It is also, most often, be the next tool that you will need.

PUBS & PHYSICS! = This explains a lot!!
It turns out that there's a scientific and logical explanation for why people (mostly men) spend so much time in pubs and only get home in the early hours of the morning. The reason for this odd behaviour is based on Einstein's famous Relativity Theory. It works like this: it is a well known fact that the more you drink, the faster you move. After about 8 beers (or 4 double brandies & coke, etc), you're moving at close to the speed of light, and this is where Einstein enters the picture. According to his Relativity Theory, any body moving at, or close to the speed of light, undergoes Time Dilation, i.e. time for you in the pub passes slower than for an observer outside the pub. Complicated calculations have shown that the pub becomes a type of time machine:- for every half-hour spent inside the pub, something
like two hours pass outside the pub. A typical situation is: "OK guys, it's 8 O'clock, I'm gonna surprise the family and get home early!!" However, the moment this person steps outside the pub, the time travel effect is negated by negative radiation from the environment, and he/she then goes: "What The??!!?? - why is it so quiet?? Damm!!! It's half past one!! WHAT HAPPENED???!!??" .....and the answer, of course, is Time Dilation!!
I've tried to explain this to outside observers, but so far nobody (except fellow time travellers) has been able or willing to understand the sound scientific basis of this phenomenon.
Please forward this to all your known time travellers - maybe we can prove this theory by sheer, overwhelming force of numbers.
Jacob Kruger
Blind Biker
Skype: BlindZA
'...fate had broken his body, but not his spirit...'

Two Woodpeckers..........
A Mexican woodpecker and a Canadian woodpecker were in Mexico arguing about which place had the toughest trees. The Mexican woodpecker claimed Mexico had a tree that no woodpecker could peck.
The Canadian w oodpecker accepted his challenge and promptly pecked a hole in the tree with no problem. The Mexican woodpecker was amazed.
The Canadian woodpecker then challenged the Mexican woodpecker to peck a tree in Canada that was absolutely 'impeckable' (a term frequently used by woodpeckers ). The Mexican woodpecker expressed confidence that he could do it and accepted the challenge.
The two flew to Canada where the Mexican woodpecker successfully pecked the so-called 'impeckable' tree almost without breaking a sweat.
Both woodpeckers were now terribly confused. How is it that the Canadian woodpecker was able to peck the Mexican tree, and the Mexican woodpecker was able to peck the Canadian tree, yet neither was able to peck the tree in their own country?
After much woodpecker pondering, they both came to the same conclusion:
Apparently, your pecker gets harder when you're away from home.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
For those of you who wax, you will understand fully and those who don't will never make this mistake. Better go pee before you read this. This by far is one of the funniest things I have ever read. ~ This is why I shave!! Hope to put a smile on your face:
Hair Removal.
All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal - the Epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now...the wax. Read on..

My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, and play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours:
'Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet.' So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom.
It was one of those 'cold wax' kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off.
No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (YA THINK!?!)
So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees.
('Cold wax,' yeah.. Right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. IT WORKS!
Ok, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.
With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my hoo-ha and stretching down the inside of my butt cheek (it *was* a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself..... RRRRRRIIIIIIPPPPPP!
I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!!.....OH MY GAWD!!!!!!
Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. CRAP! Another deep breath and RIPP! Everything is spinning and spotted. I think I may pass out..must stay conscious.. must stay conscious.
Do I hear crashing drums???? Breathe, breathe OK, back to normal. I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip. There's no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX????
Slyly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip.. It's not!! I touch. I am touching wax.
I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair. Then I make the next BIG mistake... remember my foot is still propped upon the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down.
Sealed shut! My butt is sealed shut. Sealed shut!
I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do next and think to myself 'Please don't let me get the urge to poop. My head may pop off!' What can I do to melt the wax?
Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!!!! I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right???? *WRONG!!!!!!!*
I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit.
Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub..in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax.
So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cemented myself to the porcelain!!! God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!!
I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation starter 'So, my butt and hoo-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!'
There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, 'are we talking cheeks or hole or hoo-ha?'
She's laughing out loud by now... I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box.
YEAH!!!! RIGHT!!!! I should be the joke of someone else's night.
While we go through the various solutions, I resort to trying to scrape the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better than having your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!!!!
By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.
My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace..the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH MY GAWD!!!!!!!!
The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend. Its sooo painful, but I really don't care. 'IT WORKS!!!! It works!!!!'
I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair..THE HAIR IS STILL THERE..ALL OF IT!
So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.
Next week I'm going to try hair color!

Jane meets Tarzan!
When Jane initially met Tarzan in the jungle, she was attracted to him, and during her questions about his life, she asked him how he had sex?
'Tarzan not know sex' he replied.
Jane explained to him what sex was.
Tarzan said 'Oh, Tarzan use knot hole in trunk of tree.'
Horrified Jane said, 'Tarzan you have it all wrong, but I will show you how to do it properly.' She took off her clothing and lay down on the ground. 'Here' she said, pointing to her privates, 'you must put it in here.'
Tarzan removed his loincloth, showing Jane his considerable manhood, stepped closer to her and kicked her in the crotch!
Jane rolled around in agony for what seemed like an eternity.
Eventually she managed to gasp for air and screamed 'What did you do that for?'
Tarzan replied, 'check for squirrel.'

I just got this in my inbox and wanted to share. It can be applied to driving in your cage, but I think it can also be applied to riding your bike (if the f_ckers didn't kill you). Here it is...The Law of the Garbage Truck
* One day I hopped in a taxi and we took off for the airport .** *
We were driving in the right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed on his breaks, skidded, and missed the other car by just inches! The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us. My taxi driver just *smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean, he was really friendly.**
So I asked, 'Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!' This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, 'The Law of the Garbage Truck.'
He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it and sometimes they'll dump it on you. Don't take it personally. Just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Don't take their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home or on the streets.
The bottom line is that successful people do not let garbage trucks take over their day. Life's too short to wake up in the morning with regrets, so..... 'Love the people who treat you right.. Pray for the ones who don't.
Life is ten percent what you make it and ninety percent how you take it!

THIS IS A STORY ABOUT A COUPLE WHO HAD BEEN HAPPILY MARRIED FOR YEARS.
THE ONLY FRICTION IN THEIR MARRIAGE WAS THE HABIT OF FARTING LOUDLY EVERY MORNING WHEN HE AWOKE. THE NOISE WOULD WAKE HIS WIFE AND THE SMELL WOULD MAKE HER EYES WATER AND MAKE HER GASP FOR AIR. EVERY MORNING SHE WOULD PLEAD WITH HIM TO STOP RIPPING THEM OFF BECAUSE IT WAS MAKING HER
SICK. HE TOLD HER HE COULDN'T STOP IT AND THAT IT WAS PERFECTLY NATURAL.
SHE TOLD HIM TO SEE A DOCTOR, SHE WAS CONCERNED THAT ONE DAY HE WOULD BLOW HIS GUTS OUT.
THE YEARS WENT BY AND HE CONTINUED TO RIP THEM OUT. THEN ONE THANKSGIVING MORNING AS SHE WAS PREPARING THE TURKEY FOR DINNER AND HE WAS UPSTAIRS SOUND ASLEEP, SHE LOOKED AT THE INNARDS AND NECK, GIZZARD, LIVER AND ALL THE SPARE PARTS AND A MALICIOUS THOUGHT CAME TO HER. SHE
TOOK THE BOWL AND WENT UPSTAIRS WHERE HER HUSBAND WAS SOUND ASLEEP AND, GENTLY PULLING THE BED COVERS BACK, SHE PULLED BACK THE ELASTIC WAISTBAND OF HIS UNDERPANTS AND EMPTIED THE BOWL OF TURKEY GUTS INTO HIS SHORTS.
SOME TIME LATER SHE HEARD HER HUSBAND WAKEN WITH HIS USUAL TRUMPETING WHICH WAS FOLLOWED BY A BLOOD CURDLING SCREAM AND THE SOUND OF FRANTIC FOOTSTEPS AS HE RAN INTO THE BATH ROOM. THE WIFE COULD HARDLY CONTROL HERSELF AS SHE ROLLED ON THE FLOOR LAUGHING, TEARS IN HER EYES! AFTER
YEARS OF TORTURE SHE RECKONED SHE HAD GOT HIM BACK PRETTY GOOD.
ABOUT TWENTY MINUTES LATER, HER HUSBAND CAME DOWSTAIRS IN HIS BLOODSTAINED UNDERPANTS WITH A LOOK OF HORROR ON HIS FACE. SHE BIT HER LIP AS SHE ASKED HIM WHAT WAS THE MATTER. HE SAID, "HONEY
YOU WERE RIGHT." "ALL THESE YEARS YOU HAVE WARNED ME AND I DIDN'T LISTEN TO YOU". "WHAT DO YOU MEAN?" ASKED HIS WIFE. "WELL, YOU ALWAYS TOLD ME THAT ONE DAY I WOULD END UP FARTING MY GUTS
OUT, AND TODAY IT FINALLY HAPPENED." BUT BY THE GRACE OF GOD, SOME VASELINE AND TWO FINGERS. I THINK I GOT MOST OF THEM BACK IN."

The Doctor said "Of course I won't laugh, I'm a professional. In over twenty years I've never laughed at a patient.
""Okay then," Bob said and proceeded to drop his trousers, revealing the tiniest 'whoo-ha' the doctor had ever seen. It couldn't have been bigger than the size of an AAA battery. Unable to control himself, the doctor started giggling, and then fell laughing to the floor.
Ten minutes later he was able to struggle to his feet and regain his composure "I'm so sorry, " said the doctor." I really am. I don't know what came over me. On my honor as a doctor and a gentleman, I promise it won't happen again. Now, what seems to be the problem? " "It's swollen, "Bob replied.

You're going to enjoy this! It's brilliantly written and I think this guy should be knighted, whoever he is!!! More drivers need to fight the scourge of the lawless taxi drivers. The author deserves an award for this! His name calling talent is truly inspiring and we have all been a party to the experience............

This morning, yours truly, decided to sneak in a pinch of top-secret and highly professional canoe training at Emmerentia dam, before the first farts of the sparrows could escape their imprisoning sphincters, and even before the glories-of-mornings of most non-gay South African men could rise to view the possible prospects of "before work" swims.
Yep, I was up and onto that little patch of water before sunrise, tearing around it at record-breaking pace, sneaking in a wee bit of pre-Duzi training in order to wrestle the crown away from the well slow and soft Martin Dreyer (present Duzi champion, for those of you not in the intellectual canoe mix) next time around.
Anyway, the details of my incredible canoe talent are not up for discussion here, but rather what happened on my drive home after the session, in rush hour traffic and, in particular, on Jan Smuts Avenue near to the Old Parktonian Sports Club around 8am.
I was happily chilling in my car, cruising along at about 60kph, in pretty much bumper-to-bumper traffic, with nobody going anywhere any faster; it was simply not an option. Well, not an option for anyone with a brain, with an ounce of logic within their crania, with a drop of sense inside the membranes of their cerebral hemispheres. You'd think that a creature without a brain would equate to a fly or less, a category that includes mosquitoes, stones, anvils and......taxi drivers.
Yep,enter Sipho "I'm a dickhead without a brain cell" Ndlovo, driver of a Toyota Hi-Ace with 4 wheels, 1 brake pad, no lights, half a steering wheel, about 30 people inside and 3 masking-taped windows, standard issue for a South African taxi driver.
He had more than likely participated in the demonstration march last month with hundreds of other taxi driver idiots protesting about having had their 'vehicles' impounded for not being roadworthy. The rocket-scientists couldn't understand what wasn't roadworthy about a taxi with a bobejaan spanner for a steering wheel, or one without brakes (they reckon a handbrake is just as good as the foot brake pedal).
Anyway, my mate Sipho decided things weren't flowing fast enough for him so started weaving in and out of the traffic, arm hanging out of his window like a baboon's tail hanging from its ring piece.
I heard this aeronautical engineer-like taxi driver coming from about 5 cars back, because everyone was hooting and slamming on brakes to avoid the accident that he was trying his damnest to cause. After he narrowly missed the back of my canoe as he swerved in behind me I made a stubborn little vow that he definitely wouldn't be cutting in front of me like that, and so began the fun and games.
The bum-wart first tried the standard tactic of intimidation, just gradually cutting me off, in the typical "you'd better slow down and let me in, or I'll crash into you" method.
Well, I used the typical "F_ck you faeces-brain" tactic, with one hand on the hooter, the other pointing straight at him, with my foot firmly on the accelerator, until he backed down like Mike Catt had done in 1995 when Jonah Lomu ran straight over him.
This had a snowball effect, which had me chuckling the whole way back to my humble abode. Syphilis-face then decided to put all his well acquired driving skill to the test and adopted the smartest technique of them all, the "Eish, I weel ovah-take on the wrong side" method, one that sadly has caused numerous accidents in the past, including the untimely death of one of our awesome mates a year ago.
This made old Maccatini madder than a spitting cobra with a red hot cactus lodged up its rectum. No skin off the f_cking taxi drivers nose, he just accelerated more, and tried to cut in front of the double-cab in front of me, this after he had hooted at me and showed me a middle finger accompanied with a few swearwords, something that made me want to beat him harder than Campbell hit the gay boy who stabbed him repeatedly with a pen all those years ago!
Well, the fella in front of me had obviously also been observing the proceedings, and likewise refused to let Sipho Dickdribble Ndhlovo in so the acceleration by the monkey continued, while he tried his hardest to outstare the double-cab driver. Sadly for the nuclear physicist the emergency lane was shortly going to end, with a solid stone pavement to mark its ending.
More sadly for him was the fact that he, and his 30-odd passengers were all trying their damnest to "intimidate by staring" myself and the double-cab man, instead of watching the road ahead something that most brain-owners do when driving.
I saw it coming, and was smiling my full-tusk smile even before they hit!!
Anal-bum-wart hit that pavement at about 70kph, 31 passengers bumped their heads on the roof of the Hi-Ace in symphonic unison, adding an extra 31 dents to the already-f_cked minibus, and the two front wheels were ripped off the chassis as the bus slid to a delightful halt.
Thankfully no passengers were hurt, which made it the most fantastic thing to witness. Sadly though, Sipho, arm still hanging out of the window,was also unscathed. However, his car was more f_cked than that prostitute at PE harbour named Deloris, and his mood was somewhat down-trodden.
I hooted and made sure he got the full-frontal of my biggest-ever super smile, as did the driver of the double-cab, and then to my absolute joy, looked in my mirror to see every driver behind me doing exactly the same!
The brain-cell-lacker had received his well-earned treatment! I was happier than the Proteas when they beat the Aussies, or at least as happy!!
So folks, what a peachy morning it has been so far. The sun is shining, it's nearly Friday, I've done my training. There will be a lot of thirst quenched this weekend, and Sipho, Faeces-face Ndlovo is one mini-bus short of a taxi!
Now that is justice....!

SMART ARSED ANSWER OF THE YEAR 2007
A teacher at a polytechnic college reminded her pupils of tomorrow's final exam. 'Now listen to me, I won't tolerate any excuses for you not being here tomorrow. I might consider a nuclear attack or a serious personal injury, illness, or a death in your immediate family,
but that's it, no other excuses whatsoever!'
A smart-arsed guy at the back of the room raised his hand and asked, 'What would you happen if I came in tomorrow suffering from complete and utter sexual exhaustion?' The entire class was reduced to laughter
and sniggering.
When silence was restored, the teacher smiled knowingly at the student, shook her head and sweetly said, 'Well, I suppose you'd have to write with your other hand'.

When the cold air of a winter morn fills my body,
And the leaves turn brown then grey..
Im warmed by the heart of all hearts,
The love of all loves,
Hence the will to ride another day.

"Bob Dawson"

The testicles of a Texas midget hurt and ached almost all the time.
The Midget went to the doctor and told him about his problem. The Doctor told him to drop his pants and he would have a look. The midget dropped his pants. The doctor stood him up on to the examining table, and started to examine him. The doc put one finger under his left testicle and told the Midget to turn his head and cough, the usual method to check for a hernia."Aha!" mumbled the doc, and as he put his finger under the right testicle, he asked the midget to cough again. "Aha!" said the Doctor once more, and reached for his surgical scissors.
Snip-snip-snip-snip on the right side, then snip-snip-snip-snip on the left side.
The midget was so scared he was afraid to look, but noted with amazement that the snipping did not hurt.
The doctor then told the midget to walk around the examining room to see if his testicles still hurt. The midget was absolutely delighted as he walked around and discovered his boys were no longer aching.
The doctor said, "How does that feel now?"
The midget replied, "Perfect, Doc, and I didn't even feel it. What did you do?
"The doctor replied, "I cut two inches off the top of your cowboy boots.

AUSSIE BUSINESSMEN
Two Australian businessmen in Brisbane were sitting down for a break in their soon-to-be new store. As yet, the store wasn't ready, with no stock and only a few shelves set up.
One said to the other, 'I bet any minute now some idiot tourist is going to walk by, put his face to the window, and ask what we're selling.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth when, sure enough, a curious Japanese tourist walked to the window, had a peek, and in a thick Japanese accent asked 'What you sell?'
One of the men replied sarcastically, 'We're selling ass-holes.'
Without skipping a beat, the Japanese man said, 'You doing velly well, only two left!'

A young man called Chris from London wanted to buy a Christmas present for his new girlfriend.
They hadn't been seeing each other for very long and she lived in Scotland .
Chris consulted with his sister and decided, after careful consideration, that a pair of good quality gloves would strike the right
note... not too romantic and not too personal.
Off he went with his sister to Harrods and they selected a dainty pair of fur lined quality leather gloves. His sister bought a pair of sexy knickers for herself at the same time.
Harrods had a free gift wrap offer but the assistant mixed up the two items, the sister got the gloves and Chris unknowingly got the knickers.
Good old Chris sent off his gift wrapped present in a parcel with the following letter.

Dear Maggie,
I chose these because I've noticed that you are not wearing any when we go out in the evenings. If it had not been for my sister I would have chosen the long ones with buttons, but she wears shorter ones (which are
easier to remove).
These are a very delicate shade, but the lady I bought them from showed me the pair she had been wearing for the past three weeks and I hardly noticed any marks.
I had her try yours on for me and she looked really smart in them even though they were a little bit tight on her. She also said that they rub against her ring which helps keep it clean. In fact she hasn't needed to
wash it since she began wearing them.
I wish I was there to put them on for you the first time, as no doubt many other hands will touch them before I have a chance to see you again.
When you take them off remember to blow into them a little bit because they will be naturally a little damp from wearing.
Just imagine how many times my lips will kiss them during the coming year.
I hope you will wear them for me on our next date.
All my love,
Chris
P.S. My mum tells me that the latest style is to wear them folded down
with a little bit of fur showing.

HER DIARY:
Tonight, I thought my husband was acting weird. We had made plans to meet  at a bar to have a drink. I was shopping with my friends all day long, so I  thought he was upset at the fact that I was a bit late, but he made no
comment on it.
Conversation wasn't flowing, so I suggested that we go somewhere quiet so  we could talk. He agreed, but he didn't say much. I asked him what was  wrong. He said, 'Nothing.' I asked him if it was my fault that he was  upset. He said he wasn't upset, that it had nothing to do with me, and not  to worry about it.
On the way home, I told him that I loved him. He smiled slightly, and kept  driving. I can't explain his behavior. I don't know why he didn't say, 'I  love you, too.' When we got home, I felt as if I had lost him completely, as  if he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. He just sat there quietly, and  watched TV. He continued to seem distant and absent.
Finally, with silence all around us, I decided to go to bed. About 15  minutes later, he came to bed. To my surprise, he responded to my caress,  and we made love. But I still felt that he was distracted, and his thoughts  were somewhere else. He fell asleep -I cried. I don't know what to do.
I'm  almost sure that his thoughts are with someone else. My life is a disaster.

HIS DIARY:
My Harley wouldn't start today, but at least I got laid!

The 7 Dwarfs go to the Vatican and, because they are the 7 Dwarfs, they are immediately ushered in to see the Pope. Grumpy leads the pack.
'Grumpy, my son,' says the Pope, 'What can I do for you?'
Grumpy asks, 'Excuse me your Excellency, but are there any dwarf nuns in Rome ?'
The Pope wrinkles his brow at the odd question, thinks for a moment and answers, 'No, Grumpy, there are no dwarf nuns in Rome '
In the background, a few of the dwarfs start giggling. Grumpy turns around and glares, silencing them.
Grumpy turns back, 'Your Worship, are there any dwarf nuns in all of Europe ?'
The Pope, puzzled now, again thinks for a moment and then answers, 'No, Grumpy, there are no dwarf nuns in Europe .
This time, all of the other dwarfs burst into laughter.
Once again, Grumpy turns around and silences them with an angry glare.
Grumpy turns back and says, 'Mr. Pope! Are there ANY dwarf nuns anywhere in the world?'
The Pope, really confused by the questions says, 'I'm sorry, my son, there are no dwarf nuns anywhere in the world.'
The other dwarfs collapse into a heap, rolling and laughing, pounding the floor, tears rolling down their cheeks, as they begin chanting......
'Grumpy screwed a penguin!'
'Grumpy screwed a penguin!'

The Worlds Shortest Love Story!
Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl 'Will you marry
me?' The girl said,
'NO!' And the guy lived happily ever after and rode
motorcycles and went fishing and hunting and played golf a lot and drank beer
and scotch and left the toilet seat up and farted whenever he wanted.
THE END

Two Texans were out on the range talking about their favourite sex positions.
"One said, "think I enjoy the rodeo position the best."
"I don't think I have ever heard of that one," said the other cowboy. "What is it ?"
"Well, it's where you get your wife down on all fours and you mount her from behind. Then you reach around and cup each one of her breasts in your hands and whisper in her ear, 'Boy, these feel just like your sister's.'
Then you try and stay on for 8 seconds."

The policeman got out of his car and approached the boy racer he stopped for speeding.
'I've been waiting for you all day,' the bobby said.
The kid replied, 'Yes, well I got here as fast as I could.'
When the policeman finally stopped laughing, he sent the kid on his way without a ticket.

CURTAIN RODS ---- This is PRICELESS
She spent the first day packing her belongings into boxes, crates and suitcases.
On the second day, she had the movers come and collect her things.
On the third day, she sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining room table by candle-light, put on some soft background music, and feasted on a pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar, and a bottle of
spring-water.
When she had finished, she went into each and every room and deposited a few half-eaten shrimp shells dipped in caviar into the hollow of the curtain rods.
She then cleaned up the kitchen and left. When the husband returned with his new girlfriend, all was bliss for the first few days.
Then slowly, the house began to smell.
They tried everything; cleaning, mopping and airing the place out.
Vents were checked for dead rodents and carpets were steam cleaned.
Air fresheners were hung everywhere. Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, during which they had to move out for a few days and in the end they even paid to replace the expensive wool
carpeting. Nothing worked!
People stopped coming over to visit.
Repairmen refused to work in the house.
The maid quit.
Finally, they could not take the stench any longer and decided to move.
A month later, even though they had cut their price in half, they could not find a buyer for their stinky house.
Word got out and eventually even the local realtors refused to return their calls.
Finally, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase a new place.
The ex-wife called the man and asked how things were going.
He told her the saga of the rotting house. She listened politely and said that she missed her old home terribly and would be willing to reduce her divorce settlement in exchange for getting the house back.
Knowing his ex-wife had no idea how bad the smell was, he agreed on a price that was about 1/10th of what the house had been worth, but only if she were to sign the papers that very day.
She agreed and within the hour his lawyers delivered the paperwork.
A week later the man and his girlfriend stood smiling as they watched the moving company pack everything to take to their new home.........
And to spite the ex-wife, they even took the curtain rods!!!!!!

MY FIRST CONDOM: I recall my first time with a condom, I was 16 or so. I went in to buy a packet of condoms at the pharmacy. There was this beautiful woman assistant behind the counter, and she could see that I was new at it. She handed me the package and asked if I knew how to wear one. I honestly answered, 'No, this is my first time.' So she unwrapped the package, took one out and slipped it over her thumb. She cautioned me to make sure it was on tight and secure. I apparently still looked confused. So she looked all around the store to see if it was empty. It was empty. 'Just a minute,' she said, and walked to the door, and locked it.Taking my hand, she led me into the back room, unbuttoned her blouse and removed it. She unhooked Her bra and laid it aside. 'Do these excite you?' She asked. Well, I was so dumb-struck that all I could do Was nod my head. She then said it was time to slip the condom on.As I was slipping it on, she dropped her skirt, removed her panties andlay down on a desk. 'Well, come on', she said, 'We don't have much time.'So I climbed on her. It was so wonderful, that unfortunately, I could nolonger hold back and KAPOW, I was done within a few minutes. She looked at me with a bit of a frown. 'Did you put that condom on?' she asked. I said, 'I sure did,' and held up my thumb to show her.She fainted.

If you can imagine the scene you will laugh your head off!!

Tommy was playing in the house with his balloon. Throwing it this way and that, punching it up in the air, bouncing it off the walls until the balloon floated into the bathroom and into the toilet bowl. Tommy looked at this, pulled a face of disgust and left the balloon where it landed. A little while later his father entered the bathroom and promptly, without looking, sat down, with his magazine to do his "business". On standing he looked with horror at the toilet bowl!!! The excrement had totally covered the balloon and the picture was of an immense and absurd gigantic mountain of shit.
Not wanting to believe what had just happened he quickly phoned his friend who was a doctor.
"Gerald, I had a s*** that just filled up the whole toilet. I've never seen so much shit in one sitting. It's almost overflowing. I must have a very serious problem."
"Heck John you are most probably exaggerating!"
"What exaggeration. I am looking at all that shit now. It's ab su rd. I must be very ill".
" OK. I'm on my way home but I'll pop in as it's on my way."
The doctor arrived and went directly to the toilet where his friend was standing at the door waiting.
"Hello John, where's this business that you ......HOLY S****, SWEET MOTHER MARY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What is this????? For heavens sake what have you eaten?"
"Didn't I tell you? Now you believe me hey?"
"This is un-be-lie-va-ble!!!!"
" So you think I have a serious problem?"
"Well to start with I am going to take a sample"
Gerald, the doctor proceeded to take a small sterilized bottle out of his medical bag and when he pricked the "cake" to take his specimen ...................POW!!!!!!!!! The balloon popped and s*** went flying to every crevice within the four walls of the bathroom!!!!!!! Absolute silence follows the eruption. Both men encased in shit look at each other and the doctor shouts "Son of a Gun! I thought I had seen it all in this life, but a fart with a shell..... never ! ! ! !

Why Men Don't Write Advice Columns

Dear Ted,
I hope you can help me here. The other day I set off for work leaving my husband in the house watching the TV as usual. I hadn't gone more than a mile down the road when my engine conked out and the car shuddered to a halt.
I walked back home to get my husband's help. When I got home I couldn't believe my eyes. He was in the bedroom with a neighbour, making mad passionate love to her. I am 32, my husband is 34 and we have been married for twelve years.
When I confronted him, he tried to make out that he went into the back yard and heard a lady scream, had come to her rescue but found her unconscious. He'd carried the woman back to our house, laid her in bed, and began CPR.
When she awoke she immediately began thanking him and kissing him and he was attempting to break free when I came back. But when I asked him why neither of them had any clothes on, he broke down and admitted that he'd been having an affair for the past six months.
I told him to stop or I would leave him. He was let go from his job six months ago and he says he has been feeling increasingly depressed and worthless. I love him very much, but ever since I gave him the ultimatum he has become increasingly distant. I don't feel I can get through to him any more.
Can you please help?
Sincerely,
Susie Fox

Dear Susie,
A car stalling after being driven a short distance can be caused by a variety of faults. Start by checking that there is no debris in the fuel line. If it is clear, check the clips holding the vacuum lines onto the inlet manifold for air leaks. If none of these approaches solves the problem, it could be that the fuel pump itself is faulty, causing low delivery pressure to the carburetor float chamber.
I hope this helps.
Ted

Tall Stories