Month: August 2013

Cooking School – Chef Kathy and the Lamb

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I was glad to see that the chef who taught my first class at culinary school was beautiful.  She was funny, smiled a lot, and was a good instructor.  Almost every class she would excuse herself and then leave the classroom for five to ten minutes. 

One day she was trussing up a chicken and asked James, a student, to come up to the demonstration table and help her.  When he finished and sat back down, he informed us that she smelled like Gin.  The fact that  she was drinking on the job did not bother us.  Sometimes at night, drinking together after class, we would raise our beers and say, “This one’s for Chef Kathy.” 

Then, one fateful class, she  was showing us how to de-bone a lamb.  She sliced her finger–a fairly deep cut–and seemed unaware of what had happened.  The blood dripped over the lamb like a red gravy.  Somebody yelled, “Chef, you cut your finger.” 

Chef Kathy ran out of the room. 

We wondered, was she going to belt down some gin for the pain or pour some on her finger?

Death by Idiocy

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Two young men are holding an engine in the air while an old man is working beneath it. One of the men lets go and the engine crushes the old man.  The detective comes and asks the young man, “What do you know about the victim?”
“He was an old man,” the kid says. 
The detective says, “I can see that.  You don’t know anything else?”
The man shrugs and says, “He had two buttholes.” 
The detective yells, “You jerk!  This could be murder.”
The young man says, “Well, every time the three of us went to the bar down the street, the bartender would say ‘Here comes that old man with the two buttholes.'”
              

The Irishman, the Leprechaun and the Smart Pony

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An Irishman is walking through the forest, and he comes upon a leprechaun, a pony, and two small children.

“Irishman, this pony can tell your age,” the leprechaun claims.

“That pony cannot tell me age,” the Irishman yells back. 

The leprechaun motions to the larger child and says, “Sissy, get behind that pony.”

Sissy gets behind the pony and the pony moves it’s hoof six times.

“Sissy,” says the leprechaun, “how old are you?”

“Six,” replies Sissy. 

The leprechaun yells, “Irishman this pony can tell your age!”

“That pony cannot tell me age!” the Irishman yells back.

The leprechaun motions to the smaller child and says, “Tommy, get behind the pony.”

The boy Tommy gets behind the pony. The pony moves it’s hoof two times.

“How old are you Tommy?” the leprechaun says. 

“Two,” Tommy says.

“Irishman, this pony can tell your age,” the leprechaun yells. 

The Irishman jumps behind the pony.  The pony’s tail raises up and a loud release of gas is heard.  The  pony moves his hoof two times.

Tthe Irishman turns around with a smile on his face and says,

“That is amazing, me being a farty-two!”

My Old Girl and My Old Condom

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For years I carried a condom in my wallet.

Then, when I finally needed it, I opened it up, and it looked like a bunch of shredded rubber bands. 

Then I met this woman.  We dated, and she was always asking me for money.  Twice I caught her getting in my wallet.  She was cold-hearted and never wanted sex. 

That’s when it occurred to me that this women was just like my old condom.  

Always in my wallet, never on my wiener.

 

Hillary and Saint Peter

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Hillary Clinton stands at the Gates of Heaven with St. Peter.  Hillary sees clocks ticking on the wall and says to St. Peter, “Why is that clock ticking”?
St. Peter says, “That’s Charles Manson’s clock, and, every time he tells a lie, the clock ticks.” 
Hillary says, “What about that second clock?”
St. Peter says, “That’s  Adolf Hitler’s clock, and, every time he tells a lie the clock ticks.”  “Well,” Hillary says, “where is the clock for my husband, President Bill Clinton?”
St. Peter says, “God is using that one for a fan.”