Joke #8817

Two best friends are lying on the beach and discussing: "Last night I saw a terrible nightmare…" "What did you see?" "I saw my mother-in-law swimming in the sea and being chase by a shark…" "Wow horror!" "Horror?! You say nothing! She almost got away!"

Chuck Norris has travelled many places and seen many faces. So too has his boot.

Patient: "Are you sure that you can do this operation safely?" Doctor: "That is what I want to find out myself."

Since it started to rain, my wife can't stop looking through the window. If it will start pouring down, I'm afraid I will have to let her inside.

A Liberal died and a friend went around collecting for a fund for his funeral. A woman was asked to donate ten dollars. "Ten dollars?" she said. "It only takes ten dollars to bury a Liberal? Here's a hundred - go bury 10 of them!"

Q: Why did hitter kill himself? A: Because he could not pay the gas bill.

Noticing a mistake in St. Peter's roster, God calls Satan; "It seems you accidentally received some of my professionals down there: a teacher, a doctor and a farmer." "Yeah," Satan replies. "All the more for me!" God replies, "You better send them up here immediately." Satan says, "No way. I'm keeping them." God says, "Send them up here, or I'll sue the horns right off you." Satan laughs uproariously, "Yeah, right. And just where are YOU going to get a lawyer?"

Dr. Dave had sex with one of his patients and felt guilty all day long. No matter how much he tried to forget about it he just couldn't. The guilt was overwhelming. But every once in a while he would hear in internal, reassuring voice in his head that said: "Dave don't worry about it. You aren't the first medical practitioner to have sex with one of his patients and you won't be the last. Just let It go Dave." But invariably another voice in his head would bring him back to reality whispering: "Dave... Daaaave... you're a veterinarian you sick bastard!"

Are you lost, ma'am? Because Heaven's a long way from here.

So it's the weekend, and I'm on my back patio when I get this idea to call up my coroner friend Bob. "Bob's not here," his wife says, "he's at work." "Sheesh!" I think. "Poor guy doing autopsies on a Sunday." So I call him on his cell. "What gives, bro,?" I ask. "Homicide," he says. "The higher-ups need a report ASAP. I'll be starting in just a few minutes." I Josh Bob a little. "I'll be thinking of you, buddy. Right now, I'm basting barbecue sauce on a rack of baby-backs and I'm getting ready to open a frosty beer." "Not much different here," he says. "I'm about ready to crack open a cold one myself."

Q: How can you tell you have a really bad case of acne? A: It's when the blind try to read your face.