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Single People Joke - Page 8
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Two Statues …..
……
There are two statues in a park; one of a nudе man and one of a nudе woman. ….
…..
They had been facing each other across a pathway for a hundred years, when one day an angel comes down from the sky and, with a single gesture, brings the two to life.
The angel tells them, “As a reward for being so patient through a hundred blazing summers and dismal winters, you have been given life for thirty minutes to do what you’ve wished to do the most.”
He looks at her, she looks at him, and they go running behind the shrubbery. The angel waits patiently as the bushes rustle and giggling ensues. After fifteen minutes, the two return, out of breath and laughing.
The angel tells them, “Um, you have fifteen minutes left, “Would you care to do it again?”
He asks her. “Shall we?”
She eagerly replies, “Oh, yes, let’s! But let’s change positions. This time, I’ll hold the рigеоn down, and you shiт on its head.”
( …. And what were you thinking??)
My job is so fсuкing unbelievable. I’ll try to sum it up by first telling you about the folks I work with:
First, there is this supermodel wanna-be chick. Yeah, okay, she is pretty hot, but dамn is she completely useless. The girl is constantly fixing her hair or putting on make-up. She is extremely self-centred and has never once considered the needs or wants of anyone but herself. She is as dumb as a box of rocks, and I still find it surprising that she has enough brain power to continue to breathe.
The next chick is completely the opposite. She might even be one of the smartest people on the planet. Her career opportunities are endless, and yet she is here with us. She is a zero on a scale of 1 to 10. I’m not sure she even showers, much less shaves her “womanly” parts. I think she might be a lеsвiаn, because every time we drive by the hardware store she moans like a cat in heat.
But the jewel in the crown has got to be the fсuкing stoner. And this guy is more than just your average pothead. In fact, he is baked before he comes to work, during work, and I’m sure after work. He probably hasn’t been sober any time in the last ten years, and he’s only 22. He dresses like a beatnik throwback from the 1960’s, and to make things worse, he brings his big fсuкing dog to work. Every fсuкing day I have to look at this huge Great Dane walk around half-sтоnеd from the second-hand smoke. Неll, sometimes I even think it’s trying to talk with its constant bellowing. Also, both of them are constantly hungry, requiring multiple stops to McDonald’s and Burger King, every single fсuкing day.
Anyway, I drive these fcuktards around in my van and we solve mysteries and sh1t.
One Sunday, sitting on the side of the highway waiting to catch speeding drivers, a State Police Officer sees a car puttering along at 22 MPH.
He thinks to himself, “This driver is just as dangerous as a speeder!” So he turns on his lights and pulls the driver over.
Approaching the car, he notices that there are five old ladies - two in the front seat and three in the back - wide eyed and white as ghosts. The driver, obviously confused, says to him, “Officer, I don’t understand, I was doing exactly the speed limit! I always go exactly the speed limit. What seems to be the problem?”
“Ma’am,” the officer replies, “you weren’t speeding, but you should know that driving slower than the speed limit can also be a danger to other drivers.”
“Slower than the speed limit? No sir, I was doing the speed limit exactly! Twenty-two miles an hour!” the old woman says a bit proudly.
The State Police officer, trying to contain a chuckle explains to her that “22” was the route number, not the speed limit.
A bit embarrassed, the woman grinned and thanked the officer for pointing out her error.
“But before I let you go, Ma’am, I have to ask . . . Is everyone in this car OK? These women seem awfully shaken and they haven’t muttered a single peep this whole time,” the officer asks with concern.
“Oh, they’ll be all right in a minute officer. We just got off Route 119.”
The answer is simple: you did.
See, if you think back, really hard, you might vaguely remember a Platonic guy pal who always seemed to want to spend time with you. He’d tag along with you when you went shopping, stop by your place for a movie when you were lonely but didn’t feel like going out, or even sit there and hold you while you sobbed and told him about how horribly the (other) guy that you were fсuкing treated you.
At the time, you probably joked with your girlfriends about how he was a little puppy dog, always following you around, trying to do things to get you to pay attention to him. They probably teased you because they thought he had a crush on you. Given that his behavior was, admittedly, a little pathetic, you vehemently denied having any romantic feelings for him, and buttressed your position by claiming that you were “just friends.” Besides, he totally wasn’t your type. I mean, he was a little too short, or too bald, or too fат, or too poor, or didn’t know how to dress himself, or basically be or do any of the things that your tall, good-looking, fit, rich, stylish boyfriend at the time pulled off with such ease. Eventually, your Platonic buddy drifted away, as your relationship with the boyfriend got more serious and spending time with this other guy was, admittedly, a little weird, if you werent dating him. More time passed, and the boyfriend eventually cheated on you, or became boring, or you realized that the things that attracted you to him weren’t the kinds of things that make for a good, long-term relationship. So, now, you’re single again, and after having tried the bar scene for several months having only encountered players and dоuсhе bags, you wonder, “What happened to all the nice guys?” Well, once again, you did. You ignored the nice guy. You used him for emotional intimacy without reciprocating, in kind, with physical intimacy. You laughed at his consideration and resented his devotion. You valued the aloof boyfriend more than the attentive “just-a-” friend. Eventually, he took the hint and moved on with his life. He probably came to realize, one day, that women aren’t really attracted to guys who hold doors open; or make dinners just because; or buy you a Christmas gift that you mentioned, in passing, that you really wanted five months ago; or listen when you’re upset; or hold you when you cry. He came to realize that, if he wanted a woman like you, he’d have to act more like the boyfriend that you had. He probably cleaned up his look, started making some money, and generally acted like more of an аsshоlе than he ever wanted to be. Fact is, now, he’s probably getting laid, and in a way, your ultimate rejection of him is to thank for that. And I’m sorry that it took the complete absence of “nice guys” in your life for you to realize that you missed them and wanted them. Most women will only have a handful of nice guys stumble into their lives, if that. So, if you’re looking for a nice guy, here’s what you do: 1.) Build a time machine. 2.) Go back a few years and pull your head out of your аss. 3.) Take a look at what’s right in front of you and grab ahold of it. I suppose the other possibility is that you STILL don’t really want a nice guy, but you feel the social pressure to at least appear to have matured beyond your infantile taste in men. In which case, you might be in luck, because the nice guy you claim to want has, in reality, shed his nice guy mantle and is out there looking to unleash his cynicism and resentment onto someone just like you. If you were five years younger. So, please: either stop misrepresenting what you want, or own up to the fact that you’ve fcuked yourself over. You’re getting older, after all. It’s time to excise the bullsh1t and deal with reality. You didn’t want a nice guy then, and he certainly doesn’t fсuкing want you, now. Sincerely, A Recovering Nice Guy.
A salesman was traveling through the countryside, selling insect repellent. He came to a farmhouse and tried his pitch on the farmer. “Sir, my bug spray is so good you will never be bitten again, I guarantee it.”
The farmer was dubious. “Young man, I’ll make you a proposition. I’ll tie you out in my cornfield buck nакеd, covered with that bug spray. If there is not a single bite on you come morning, I’ll buy a whole case from you.”
The salesman was delighted. They went to the field and he stripped. The farmer sprayed him thoroughly with the bug spray and tied him to a stake. Back to the house went the farmer. The next morning, the farmer and his family trooped out to the corn field. Sure enough,the salesman was there, hanging in his bonds, not a single bite on him. Yet he was a total wreck! Pale, ghastly, haggard, and drawn, but not one bite on him.
The farmer was perplexed. “Son,” he said, “Now, you don’t have a bite on you but you look like hеll! What the devil happened?”
The salesman looked up through bloodshot eyes and croaked, “For crying out loud, Mister, doesn’t that calf have a Mother!!!
There were two secretaries that worked at this very large company. They didn’t know one another very well, but were friendly at work.
It was vacation time and they stood before the vacation schedule to see when they had time off. They noticed that their vacation days were the same.
Both were single, so after discussing their plans, they decided they could save money on a trip by going together.
They chose an exotic island getaway and on the way there, they soon discovered all they had in common. After a long flight, they checked into their single bedroom and decided to call it a night.
As they lay in bed, the one girl leaned close to the other, placed her arm around her seductively and said, “I really need to tell you Something and I’m going to be frank..”
Suddenly, the other girl rose up and said, “NO, I want to be Frank!”
The pope had become very ill and was taken to many doctors, all of whom could
Not figure out how to cure him. Finally he was brought to an old physician, who
Stated that he could figure it out.
After about an hour’s examination he came out and told the cardinals that he
Knew what was wrong. He said that the bad news was that it was a rare disorder
Of the testicles. He said that the goods news was that all the pope had to do to
Be cured was to have sеx.
Well, this was not good news to the cardinals, who argued about it at length.
Finally they went to the pope with the doctor and explained the situation. After
Some thought,the pope stated, “I agree but under four conditions.”
The cardinals were amazed and there arose quite an uproar. Over all of the noise
There arose a single voice that asked, “And what are the four conditions?”
The room stilled. There was a long pause. The pope replied, “First the girl must
Be blind, so that she cannot see with whom she is having sеx.
“Second, she must be deaf, so that she cannot hear with whom she is having sеx.
“And third she must be dumb so that if somehow she figures out with who she is
Having sеx, she can tell no one.”
After another long pause a voice arose and asked, “And the fourth condition?”
The pope smiled and replied, “She gotta have big t*ts.”
Susie's husband had been slipping in and out of a coma for several months. Things looked grim, but she was by his bedside every single day. One day as he slipped back into consciousness, he motioned for her to come close to him. She pulled the chair close to the bed and leaned her ear close to be able to hear him.
"You know" he whispered, his eyes filling with tears, "you have been with me through all the bad times. When I got fired, you stuck right beside me. When my business went under, there you were. When we lost the house, you were there. When I got shot, you stuck with me. When my health started failing, you were still by my side. "And you know what?"
"What, dear?" she asked gently, smiling to herself.
"I think you're bad luck."