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In the USA, the southern states have their rednecks; New York, (where Раddy and Seamus immigrated from Ireland,) and Minnesota, to the north, with three or four dim bulbs called Ollie, Lena and Sven who must have migrated from the Scandanavian countries. …
…
Ollie answered the phone one day and came back to the living room crying.
“Vell, Ollie! Vat in da vorld is da matter?” asks the sympathetic Lena.
“I yust had bad news, Lena,” Ollie replied, “My fadder yust died!!”
Just then the phone rang again, Ole went to answer it and came back crying again.
“Vell, now, Ole, vat is da matter?” asked Lena.
“Dat vas my brudder.” said Ole. “His fadder yust died too!”
Not a joke but a good read…
The first part is a girl’s email apology to her boyfriend for cheating. The second is his hilarious reply…
Brad,
It would be difficult for me to be any more miserable right now, I feel like the worst person ever. First, let me start by saying that I am truly, truly sorry, and I hate myself for hurting you. Of all the people in the whole entire world, you were honestly the last person that I would ever want to wrong in any way. There is no excuse at all for anything that happened, so I won’t even try other than to say all of us had WAY too much to drink, and I did a sтuрid thing. I can handle you being рissеd at me, I absolutely deserve it, I can even handle the ugly words that were exchanged between us, what I can’t handle is thinking that you see me as a different person.
It is weird, the world looked funny yesterday, I couldn’t сrаск a smile if you paid me, there are songs I can’t listen to, and I just feel beyond crushed. I don’t know if you meant everything you said to me, and I am hoping that you didn’t. I know that I was wrong on many levels, but I am also hoping that this is something that we can deal with. I know it sounds totally crazy and sтuрid, I can’t imagine my days without you.
It is totally strange and weird to say that, and you could say that my behaviour didn’t reflect that, and you would be correct. I hate feeling like you hate me, and I hate feeling like all of your friends think I am a terrible person, because I am not. I know there is nothing I can say or do to take back what happened. I am so sorry.
Elizabeth
RESPONSE:
Dear Elizabeth,
Thank you for your concern. I’ll be sure to file it away under ‘L! ‘ for ‘Long-winded diatribes from drunken whоrеs I couldn’t care less about’. You did a sтuрid thing huh? No…doing long division and forgetting to carry the one is ‘a sтuрid thing’; Mixing in a red sock with a load of whites is ‘a sтuрid thing’; Blowing some guy in a bathroom for 45 minutes while I sit at the bar wondering if you’re taking so long because you ate too much bran that morning isn’t as much a ‘Sтuрid thing’ as it is grounds for permanent removal from my social calendar.
To be honest, I’m not sure if it was more amusing that you went and degraded yourself in a public toilet not once, but twice in a 2 hour span, or that you seemed to think that by saying ‘Well, I didn’t fuск him’ somehow gave you a clean slate. So forgive me if I couldn’t care less if the world ‘looked funny’ to you yesterday. Since your world revolves around вlоw dryers, golden retrievers, Prada Bags and Jelly Beans, I’m sure it must have been most unsettling to actually have to consider someone else’s feelings for 24 hours straight.
The good news for you is that my friends don’t think you’re a terrible person, they just think you’re the average run of the mill сuм-guzzling blond who commands about as much respect as your average child роrn collector.
By the way, for the amount of time you claim to spend in spin class you really must be doing something wrong to sport the thunder thighs you do. Watching you parade around my bedroom in a thong was a little like watching sea lions mate. Thought you might like to know.
PS. I forwarded this email to about 100 people.
Talk to you never,
Brad
I had been with my now ex-girlfriend for a few years when a new neighbour moved in next door. His name was Joseph, and he had a son (also named Joseph, or Joey, but not relevant to the story). Anyway. Joseph seemed nice enough, and he would often talk to me and my girlfriend about this and that. He and his wife were divorced, and somehow he got sole custody of Joey. He had a strange accent, but when we asked about it, he always brushed it aside.
About a year after he moved in, my girlfriend fell pregnant. I wasn’t really sure what to do because I was young, but I didn’t want to leave her. So, we got engaged and planned on getting married. A few months after that, she told me the truth. She had been sleeping with Joseph. I was beyond furious. I demanded a paternity test, and she complied. Weeks later, I got the news. “Sir, we’re sorry, but you’re not the father.” The news was too much. I broke down. I broke up with my girlfriend, went over to Joseph’s house, rang the doorbell, and when he answered, I hit him square in the eye. He laughed and slammed the door in my face. The next day, he was wearing cotton-wool over his eye. It made me feel slightly better knowing he was in pain, if only for a little while. About a month later, Joseph and Joey moved out, leaving my ex-girlfriend to become a single mother. She asked me if I knew anything about where he had gone, and I told her I didn’t. That’s the truth though. He just packed up and left without saying a word.
Anyway, the point is… If it hadn’t been for cotton-eyed Joe, I’d been married a long time ago. Where did you come from, where did you go? Where did you come from, cotton-eyed Joe?