Knock knock. Who's there? Déja. Déja who? Knock knock.
A popular motivational speaker was entertaining his audience. He said: "The best years of my life were spent in the arms of a woman who wasn't my wife!" The audience was in silence and shock. The speaker added: "And that woman was my mother!" Laughter and applause. A week later, a top manager trained by the motivational speaker tried to crack this very effective joke at home during a small party. He was a bit foggy after having a drink or two. He said loudly, "The greatest years of my life were spent in the arms of a woman who was not my wife!" The wife went red with shock and rage. Standing there for 20 seconds trying to recall the second half of the joke, with the guests not saying a word, the manager finally blurted out "... and I can't remember who she was!"
Fast way to screw up someone's Knock Knock joke...? "It's open."
Knock Knock. Who's there? Opportunity. Don't be silly - opportunity doesn't knock twice!
Knock, knock! Who's there? Opportunity! That is impossible. Opportunity doesn't come knocking twice!
One night, there was a knock on my door... i open it and no one was there every night I would get the same knock and still no one was there... Untill the morning I was just making myself some tea as a person knocks on my door it was a black man he walk in and stole my tea .... i said to myself did he just mug me .... I still didn't know who was knocking on the doors at night Untill one night I opened my door and there was a floating mug I was still confused.
In the dim and distant past, when life's tempo wasn't so fast, Grandma used to rock and knit, Crochet, tat and babysit. When the kids were in a jam, they could always call on Gram. However, today she's in the gym exercising to keep slim. She's checking the web or surfing the net, sending some e-mail or placing a bet. Nothing seems to stop or block her, now that Grandma's off her rocker.
Knock knock? Who's there? Hitler! Hitler who? You Know, the man who kills jews.
The most effective way to remember to buy something to your wife for St. Valentine's Day is... to forget it once!
I just read a book about Stockholm Syndrome. It was pretty bad at first, but by the end I kinda liked it.
You know you're ugly when you get handed the camera every time they make a group photo.