a dyslexic man walks into a bra...



Sent by Robert

        one time in my undergrad days, it was snowing like mad
        out. someone decided it was time a make a snowball. then
        someone else suggested that we should put this snowball in
        this one guy's room-- nobody liked this guy-- so when the
        word got around, half the people in our dorm section came
        out and help! we got this sucker so BIG that it must be
        at least 4 feet in diameter. it took about 6 person to haul
        the darn thing up 3 flights of stairs. we got the snowball
        into this guy's room while he was out, turn off the heat in
        the room and left all the windows open, so the snowball
        won't melt too fast. well... the turkey came back 3 hours
        later and found a HUGH snowball sitting in the middle of his
        room, and started melting! I still have the picture of the
        snowball. (if you really wonder how big the snowball is,
        just imagine a snowball the size of a normal dinning room
        chair!)

A woman walks into a tattoo parlour and asks 'Do you do custom work?'

'Why of course!'

'Good. I'd like a portrait of Robert Redford on the inside of my
right thigh, and a portrait of Paul Newman on the inside of
my left thigh.'

'No problem,' says the artist. 'Strip from the waist down and get
up on the table.'

After two hours of hard work, the artist finishes.
The woman sits up and examines the tattoos.

'That doesn't look like them!' she complains loudly.

'Oh yes it does,' the artist says indignantly, 'and I
can prove it.' With that, he runs out of the shop
and grabs the first man off the street he can find;
it happens to be the town drunk.

'Well, what do you think?' the woman asks, spreading
her legs. 'Do you know who these men are?'

The drunk studies the tattoos for a couple of minutes
and says. 'I'm not sure who the guys on either side are,
but the fellow in the middle is definately Willie Nelson!' 

Seymour was a good and pious man, and when he passed away, the Lord 
himself greeted him at the pearly gates of heaven. 
"Hungry, Seymour?" the Lord asked.
"I could eat," said Seymour.
The Lord opened a can of tuna, and they shared it.
While eating this humble meal, Seymour looked down into Hell and noticed 
the inhabitants devouring enormous steaks, pheasant, pastries and vodka.
The next day, the Lord again asked Seymour if he were hungry, and Seymour 
again said, "I could eat."
Once again, a can of tuna was opened and shared, while down below Seymour 
noticed a feast of caviar, champagne, lamb, truffles, brandy, and 
chocolates.
The following day, mealtime arrived and another can of tuna was opened. 
Meekly, Seymour said, "Lord, I am very happy to be be in heaven as a 
reward for the good life I lived. But, this is heaven, and all I get to 
eat is tuna. But in the Other Place, they eat like Kings. I just don't 
understand." 
"To be honest, Seymour," the Lord said, "for just two people, does it pay 
to cook?"

A man entered a restaurant and sat at the only open table. As he
sat down, he knocked the spoon off the table with his elbow. A
nearby waiter reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a clean
spoon, and set it on the table. The diner was impressed, and
asked, "Do all the waiters carry spoons in their pockets?"

The waiter replied, "Yes. We had an efficiency expert here that
determined that 17.8% of our diners knock the spoon off the table.
By carrying clean spoons with us, we save trips to the kitchen."

The diner ate his meal. As he was paying the waiter, he commented,
"Forgive the intrusion, but do you know that you have a string
hanging from your fly?" The waiter replied, "Yes, we all do. That
same efficiency expert determined that we spend 21.4% of our time
washing our hands after using the men's room. The other end of that
string is tied to my penis. When I need to go, I simply pull the
string to get my tool out of my pants, go, and then return to work.
Having never touched myself, there is no need to wash my hands.
Saves a lot of time."

"Wait a minute," said the diner, "how do you get your penis back
in your pants?" "Well, I don't know about the other guys, but I use
the spoon."