I’m so ugly, I looked out the window and was arrested for mooning.
President Lincoln said that all men are created equal.
He never went to a nude beach.
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?
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!”
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.