There was a brunette standing along side a busy road chanting "88, 88, 88, 88..."A blonde came up to her and said, "That looks like fun, can I try?"The brunette said, "Sure."So the blonde chanted, "88, 88, 88, 88...""Well," said the brunette, "that is fun. But what is even more fun is if you say it in the middle of the street."So the blonde said, "OK." and stood in the middle of the street. "88, 88, 88, 88..." BAM! She was run over by a car, completely flattened. Along the side of the road, the brunette began to chant, "89, 89, 89, 89..."
One day while on patrol, a police officer pulled over a car for speeding. He went up to the car and asked the driver to roll down her window. The first thing he noticed, besides the nice red sports car, was how hot the driver was! Blue eyes, blonde, the works.
"I've pulled you over for speeding, Ma'am. Could I see your drivers license?"
"What's a license???" replied the blonde, instantly giving away the fact that she was as dumb as a stump.
"It's usually in your wallet," replied the officer. After fumbling for a few minutes, the driver managed to find it. "Now may I see your registration?" asked the cop.
"Registration..... what's that....?" asked the blonde.
"It's usually in your glove compartment." said the cop impatiently. After some more fumbling, she found the registration.
"I'll be back in a minute." said the cop and walked back to his car. The officer phoned into the dispatch to run a check on the woman's license and registration. After a few moments, the dispatcher came back, "Ummm... is this woman driving a red sports car?"
"Yes." replied the officer
"Is she a drop dead gorgeous blonde?" asked the dispatcher
"Uh... yes." replied the cop.
"Here's what you do." said the dispatcher. "Give her the stuff back, and drop your pants."
"What!!? I can't do that. Its... inappropriate." exclaimed the cop.
"Trust me. Just do it." said the dispatcher.
So the cop went back to the car, gave back the license and registration and dropped his pants, just as the dispatcher said.
The blonde looked down and sighed..... "Ohh no... not another Breathalyzer......"
The local sheriff in a small suburban town was looking for a deputy. He posted ads in the paper, and sure enough, Lisa, a wonderful looking blonde, went in to try out for the job. She wasn't the sharpest nail in the bucket, but seeing as she had a natural charisma about her, the sheriff gave her an interview...
"Okay," the sheriff drawled, "Lisa, what is 1 and 1?"
"11!" she enthusiastically replied.
The sheriff thought to himself, "That's not what I meant, but she's right in a way..."
"Okay, Lisa. What two days of the week start with the letter 'T'?"
"Shucks, that's easy," the blonde replied. "Today and tomorrow!"
The sheriff was again surprised that Lisa supplied a correct answer that he had never thought of himself.
He thought of his next question carefully to make sure there could be no equivocation about the answer:
"Now Lisa, listen carefully: Who killed Abraham Lincoln?"
Lisa looked a little surprised, thought really hard for a minute and finally admitted, "I don't know."
"Well, why don't you go home and work on that one for a while," the sheriff replied with satisfaction.
So, Lisa wandered over to the salon where her pals were waiting to hear the results of the interview.
"How'd it go?" they all asked.
Lisa was ecstatic. "It went great! First day on the job and I'm already working on a мurdеr case!"
A bunch of Indians capture a cowboy and bring him back to their camp to meet the chief. The chief says to the cowboy, "You going to die. But we sorry for you, so give you one wish a day for three days. On sundown of third day, you die. What is first wish?"
The cowboy thinks for a moment and then responds, "I want to see my horse." The Indians get his horse. The cowboy grabs the horse's ear and whispers something, then slaps the horse on the аss. The horse takes off.
Two hours later, the horse comes back with a nакеd blonde. She jumps off the horse and goes into the teepee with the cowboy. The Indians look at each other, figuring, "Typical white man - can only think of one thing."
The second day, the chief says, "What your wish today?"
The cowboy says, "I want to see my horse again." The Indians bring him his horse. The cowboy leans over to the horse and whispers something in the horses ear, then slaps it on the аss.
Two hours later, the horse comes back with a nакеd redhead. She gets off and goes in the teepee with the cowboy. The Indians shake their heads, figuring, "Typical white man - going to die tomorrow and can only think of one thing."
The last day comes, and the chief says, "This your last wish, white man. What you want?"
The cowboy says, "I want to see my horse again." The Indians bring him his horse.
The cowboy grabs the horse by both ears, twists them hard and yells, "Read my lips! POSSE, dаммiт! P-O-S-S-E!"
A Blonde Guy walks into a bar very down on himself. As he walks up to the bar the bartender asks, “what’s the matter?”
The Blonde Guy replies, “well I’ve got these two horses (sniff, sniff), and well… I can’t tell them apart. I don’t know if I’m mixing up riding times or even feeding them the right foods.”
The bartender, feeling sorry for the guy, tries to think of something he can do.
“Why don’t you try shaving the tail of one of the horses?”
The man stops crying and says, “that sounds like a good idea, I think I’ll try it.”
A few months later he comes back to the bar in worse condition than he was before.
“What’s the matter now?” the bartender asks.
The Blonde Guy, in no condition to be in public, answers, “I shaved the tail of one of the horses (sob, sob), but it grew back and I can’t tell them apart again!”
The bartender, now just wanting him to shut up or leave says, “why don’t you try shaving the mane, maybe that will not grow back.”
He stops crying, has a few drinks, and leaves.
A few months later the guy is back in the bar.
The bartender has never seen anybody in this sorry of a state.
Without the bartender even asking the fellow breaks into his problems. “I.. I shaved the (sob) mane of one of the (sniff) horses, and… it… it… grew back!”
The bartender, now furious at the guy’s general stupidity, yells, “for crying out loud, just measure the sтuрid horses. Perhaps one is slightly taller than the other one!”
The guy cannot believe what the bartender has said and storms out of the bar.
The next day the Blonde Guy comes running back into the bar as if he had just won the lottery.
“It worked, it worked!” he exclaims.
“I measured the horses and the black one is two inches taller than the white one!”