BMW Jokes, BMW drivers Jokes
A man asked a waiter to take a bottle of Merlot to an unusually attractive woman sitting alone at a table in a cozy little restaurant.
So the waiter took the Merlot to the woman and said, 'This is from the gentleman seated over there' ..... and indicated the sender with a nod of his head.
She stared at the wine coolly for a few seconds, not looking at the man, then decided to send a reply to him by a note. The waiter, who was lingering nearby for a response, took the note from her and conveyed it to the gentleman.
The note read: 'For me to accept this bottle, you need to have a Mercedes in your garage, a million dollars in the bank and 7 inches in your pants'.
After reading the note, the man decided to compose one of his own in return.
He folded his note, handed it to the waiter and asked him to deliver it to the lady.
It read:
'Just to let you know things aren't always what they appear to be. I have a Ferrari Maranello, a BMW Z8, a Mercedes CL600, and a Porsche Turbo in my several garages. I have beautiful homes in Aspen and Miami, and a 10,000 acre ranch in Louisiana. And there is over twenty million dollars in my bank accounts and portfolio.
But, not even for a woman as beautiful as you, would I cut off three inches. Just send the wine back.'
When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don’t take it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don’t know.
I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I’d forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered, saying “Hello.”
I politely said, “This is Chris. Could I please speak with Robyn Carter?” Suddenly, a manic voice yelled out in my ear “Get the right f**in’ number!” And the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn’t believe that anyone could be so rude. When I tracked down Robyn’s correct number to call her, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits.
After hanging up with her, I decided to call the “wrong” number again.
When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled, “You’re an a**hole!” and hung up. I wrote his number down with the word ‘a**hole’ next to it, and put it in my desk drawer.
Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I’d call him up and yell, “You’re an a**hole!” It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic ‘аsshоlе’ calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, “Hi, this is John Smith from Telstra. I’m calling to see if you’re familiar with our Caller ID Program?” He yelled “NO!” and slammed down the phone. I quickly called him back and said, “That’s because you’re аrsеhоlе!”
One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had
Patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I’d been waiting for that spot, but the idiот ignored me. I noticed a “For Sale” sign in his back window, so I wrote down his number.
A couple of days later, right after calling the first аsshоlе (I had his number on speed dial), I thought that I’d better call the BMW аsshоlе, too. I said, “Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?”
“Yes, it is”, he said.
“Can you tell me where I can see it?” I asked.
“Yes, I live at 34 Mowbray Blvd, in Vaucluse. It’s a yellow house, and the car’s parked right out in front.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“My name is Don Hansen,” he said.
“When’s a good time to catch you, Don?”
“I’m home every evening after five.”
“Listen, Don, can I tell you something?”
“Yes?”
“Don, you’re an аsshоlе!” Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.
Now, when I had a problem, I had two arseholes to call. Then I came up with an idea. I called аrsеhоlе #1.
“Hello.”
“You’re an аsshоlе!” I said, but I didn’t hang up.
“Are you still there?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Stop calling me,” he screamed.
“Make me,” I said.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“My name is Don Hansen.”
“Yeah? Where do you live?”
“A**hole, I live at 34 Mowbray Blvd, Vaucluse, a yellow house, with my black Beamer parked in front.”
He said, “I’m coming over right now, Don, and you’d better start saying your prayers.” I said, “Yeah, like I’m really scared, аrsеhоlе,” and hung up.
Then I called аrsеhоlе #2.
“Hello?” he said.
“Hello, аrsеhоlе,” I said.
He yelled, “If I ever find out who you are…”
“You’ll what?” I said.
“I’ll kick you’re аrsе,” he exclaimed.
I answered, “Well, аrsеhоlе, here’s your chance. I’m coming over right now.”
Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 34 Mowbray Blvd, Vaucluse, and that I was on my way over there to кill my gаy lover. Then I called Channel 9 News about the gang war going down in Mowbray Blvd, Vaucluse.
I quickly got into my car and headed over to Mowbray. I got there just in time to watch two arseholes beating the сrар out of each other in front of six cop cars, an overhead police helicopter and a news crew.
Anger management really works.
There was a young rabbi, who on Sabbath Eve announces to the congregation that he will be leaving for a larger congregation that will pay him more. There is a silence. No one wants him to leave. Cohen, who owns several car dealerships, stands up and announces, "If the rabbi stays, I'll provide him with a new BMW every year, and his lovely wife with a Range Rover, to transport their children!" The congregation sighs and applauds. Feinstein, the entrepreneur and investor stands up and says,
"If the rabbi stays, I'll double his salary, and establish a college fund to guarantee the college education of his children!" More sighs and applause. Old Mrs. Horowitz, aged 96, stands and announces, "If the rabbi stays, I will have sеx with him!" There is a silence. The rabbi, blushing, asks, "Mrs. Horowitz, whatever possessed you to say that?" Mrs. Horowitz answers, "I just asked Mr. Horowitz what we could do to make the rabbi stay. Mr. Horowitz said,"fuск the rabbi."
