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A single woman on her period decides that she does not longer want to sit around at home and that it is time to hit the town for some drinks. Maybe she will meet that special someone tonight? She decides to go to the local bar.
As she sits at the bar by herself a very drunк gentleman approaches and starts to flirt with her. It is clear the man wants to have sеx with her. However, she really does not want to be with this guy as he is so blackout drunк and she is on her period. She just wants to enjoy the night out.
As the night continues, she also starts to get a little tipsy and finally decides to go home with this guy. “He is so drunк, he won’t notice that I am on my period.” she thought to herself.
As they arrive at the guy’s apartment they immediately “get down to business”. As soon as they are finished the guy falls asleep and starts to snore loudly. The woman, feeling a little bit of shame, decides to leave his apartment and goes back home.
The next morning the guy wakes up in his bed. He tries to remember what happened the night before. He vaguely remembers picking up a chick and brining her home with him. “Alright!” he thinks and looks to the other side of the bed. The woman was not there anymore. However, he suddenly notices that the whole bed is covered in blood.
He jumps up from the bed in horror. “Oh my god…. Oh my god…. Did I кill this poor women while I was blackout drunк?”. He starts to panic and paces around like a madman in his apartment. “How did I кill her? Where is the body?”
He runs into the kitchen to check his knifes and cleavers. All of them were clean. “ So I did not stab her or chop her up…” he thought to himself.
Then he runs to his gun cabinet to see if he used any of the guns and ammo. “I also did not shoot her…” he said to himself.
Panic rising more and more in his chest, he also looks into his toolbox to see If he might have used one of his hammers to кill her. “No, none of my tools were used” he whispered.
Desperate on finding out how he killed this poor woman he slouched into the bathroom to freshen up a little. He lifts his head to look at himself in the mirror. Then he says:
“Shiт, I ate her.”
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If Operating Systems were вееr..
DOS Вееr:
Requires you to use your own can opener, and requires you to read the directions carefully before opening the can. Originally only came in an 8-oz. can, but now comes in a 16-oz. can. However, the can is divided into 8 compartments of 2 oz. each, which have to be accessed separately.
Soon to be discontinued, although a lot of people are going to keep drinking it after it's no longer available.
Mac Вееr:
At first, came only a 16-oz. can, but now comes in a 32-oz. can. Considered by many to be a "light" вееr. All the cans look identical. When you take one from the fridge, it opens itself. The ingredients list is not on the can. If you call to ask about the ingredients, you are told that "you don't need to know." A notice on the side reminds you to drag your empties to the trashcan.
Windows 95 Вееr:
You can't buy it yet, but a lot of people have taste-tested it and claim it's wonderful. The can looks a lot like Mac Вееr's can, but tastes more like Windows 3.1 Вееr. It comes in 32-oz. cans, but when you look inside, the cans only have 16 oz. of вееr in them. Most people will probably keep drinking Windows 3.1 Вееr until their friends try Windows 95 Вееr and say they like it. The ingredients list, when you look at the small print, has some of the same ingredients that come in DOS вееr, even though the manufacturer claims that this is an entirely new brew.
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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.
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Chocolate Jokes
An elderly gentleman of 85 feared his wife was getting hard of hearing. So one day he called her doctor to make an appointment to have her hearing checked. The Doctor made an appointment for a hearing test in two weeks, and meanwhile there's a simple informal test the husband could do to give the doctor some idea of the state of her problem.
"Here's what you do," said the doctor, "start out about 40 feet away from her, and in a normal conversational speaking tone see if she hears you. If not, go to 30 feet, then 20 feet, and so on until you get a response."
That evening, the wife is in the kitchen cooking dinner, and he's in the living room. He says to himself, "I'm about 40 feet away, let's see what happens."
Then in a normal tone he asks, "Honey, what's for supper?" No response.
So the husband moved to the other end of the room, about 30 feet from his wife and repeats, "Honey, what's for supper?" Still no response.
Next he moves into the dining room where he is about 20 feet from his wife and asks, "Honey, what's for supper?" Again he gets no response.
So he walks up to the kitchen door, only 10 feet away. "Honey, what's for supper?" Again there is no response.
So he walks right up behind her. "Honey, what's for supper?"
"Dамn it Earl, for the fifth time, CHICKEN!"
Medical and Doctor Jokes