FUNNY JOKES !!!!

[budman]

This is pretty graphic, but incredibly funny...

This came from the triangle.dining newsgroup, and is about Ryan's:

Now, I know that there is a lot of embellishment that occurs on this
group and I am aware that a small number of things are perhaps sheer
fabrication, but I have a story to tell that is the absolute truth.
Funniest damn thing that has ever happened to me. A couple of weeks
Ago we decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steakhouse for dinner. It was a
Wednesday night which means that macaroni and beef was on the hot
bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served. Wednesday night
is also kid's night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering
from table to table entertaining the little ba$tards.  It may seem that the
events about to be told have little connection to those two
circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment. We went through the
line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat
down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order to
keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot
bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that
evening, I tell you -- in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian
ambrosia were shoved into my belly. I was sated.  Perhaps a bit too much,
however. I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit
of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of
food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my diaphragm
that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward
pressure was building. At first, I thought it was only gas which could have
been passed in batches right at the table without to much concern.
Unfortunately, that was not to be. After a minute or so it was clear
that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease
can make its way through your intestines far faster than the food which
spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress...
I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon
entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to
the
right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One
of them was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I would have gone
to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a
good
sh!t, but in this case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I
hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a
pair of diagonal wire cutters is having someone walk in on me while I
am taking a sh!t. I went to the normal stall.
In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped
stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of
time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under
the circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall,
the pressure on my a$$ was reaching Biblical proportions.  I began "The
Move."  For those women who may be reading this, let me take a
Moment to explain "The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to
at
Any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a
Sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any
circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously
approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to position ones a$$
toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline,
and pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same
time. It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results
in the flawless expulsion of sh!t at the exact same second that ones
a$$ is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even
assures that the choad is properly inserted into the front rim of the
toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time;
it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet
dancer.  I was about half-way into "The Move" when I looked down at
the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one
of those little ba$tards attending kids night; it was mounded up in
the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall.
Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had
eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a
rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex started, combined
with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach,
four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up for a rematch. What
happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events are a
bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can.  In that
moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from the
goings-on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I
was half crotched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees,
with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus. Now, most of you know
that vomiting takes precidence over sh!t no matter what is about to come
slamming out of you’re a$$. It is apparently an evolutionary thing since
sh!tting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to
accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial
tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus diverted.  At that
very split second, my a$$ exploded in what can only be described as a
wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of
"30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what seemed
to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of sh!t the
consistency of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came
flying out of my a$$. But remember, I was only half-way down on the
toilet at that moment. The sh!t wave was of such force and of just
such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat that it
ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall at an
angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initially hit the
toilet seat. Then I sat down.  Recall that when that event occurred, I
was already half-way to sitting anyway and had actually reached the
point of no return. I have always considered myself as relatively
stable gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're
going
down no matter how limber
you may be. Needless to say, the sh!t wave, though of considerable
force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet
seat and deposit itself on the walls, unlike what you would see when
hitting a puddle with a high-pressure water hose; even though you
throw water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to
re-form a puddle. There was a significant amount of sh!t remaining on
about one-third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon.
Now, back to the vomit...   (see page 2)

[budman]

 While all the sh!tting was going on, the
vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on
the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the
macaroni and beef I had just consumed. OK, so what does the human body
instinctively do when vomiting? One bends over. So I bent over. I was
still sitting on the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted
in me placing my head above my now slightly-opened legs, positioned in
between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which
were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles.
Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with
elastic on the ankles.  In one mighty push, some three pounds of
macaroni and beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast
Rolls were deposited in my pants...on the inside...with no ready exit
At the bottom down by my feet.  In the next several seconds, there were
A handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended, yet I was
Now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in sh! t
That had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to
A height of about five feet, and still had enough force to come back at
me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid sh!t. All
while thick sh!t was spread all over my a$$ in a ring curiously in the
shape of a toilet seat.  And there was no f*cking toilet paper.  What
could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to
the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was
OK since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying
hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the
manager. And told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper.
When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no
way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there
was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the
stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask
my wife to come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left.
At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just
A bit in my pants or something similarly benign.  About two minutes
later, my wife came into the bathroom not knowing what was wrong and
with a certain amount of worry in her voice. I explained to her (still
laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident
and
needed her help. Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in
the past, she probably assumed that I had laid down a small turd or
something and just needed to bring the car around so we could bolt
immediately. Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was
about to go across the street and purchase me new underwear, new
socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage
around the elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers. And she then
started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began to ask for an
explanation as to what had happened when I promised her that I would
tell her later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for
the time being. She left.  The manager then came back in with a half-dozen
wet towels and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and
bucket upon which he assured me that they would clean up anything
that needed to be cleaned. Without giving him specific details, I explained
that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of
what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks
working at Ryan's making minimum wage or just slightly above. At that
moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the situation.
Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that I will be
eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose.  Fortunately,
commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and tile floors
and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy.
Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom. He hooked up the hose to
the spigot located under the sink as I began cleaning myself up with
the wet towels. Just as I was finishing, my wife got back with  the new
clothes and passed them into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the
previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the
store, handing the bag to my wife. I finished cleaning myself off and
carefully put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured
that
it would be in bad taste to go out of the stall to get redressed in the
event I happened to be standing there naked and some little ba$tard
kid walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet
committed a felony and intended to keep it that way.  When I finished
getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall,
washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I
put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to
go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but when I walked
out, three of the management staff were there to greet me with a standing
ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was going to
throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my wife was
now waiting to pick me up by the front door.  The upshot of all this is
that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have,
by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have
eaten.

[cain73]

Budman,
while I sit here teary eyed from laughter, clutching my sides and realing from the nature of your post I must admit I am struck with awe at either your brutal honesty and willingness to laugh at what most other would need therapy to recover from, or your unmatched ability to entertain with elaborate B.S. I feel compelled to act on 2 immediate needs:

1)  I must thank you for  such an entertaining (yet utterly disgusting) story   and

2) I must ask that you and I never dine in the same place at the same time.
Next time bring some Depends just in case  .

[budman]

Geez, Cain....I hate to burst your bubble, but if you read the very first line, you'll see I got that from a newsgroup..NOT ME IN THE STORY!!  I don't have that good of story telling ability. I about died when I read that, and had to share. It has to be the funniest story I've read. I had to stop several times to wipe tears of laughter and just push my self away from the computer!!

[cain73]

No bubble burst here. I just jumped into the story and didn't see that part. regardless that was funny. thanks for sharing no matter where you found it. However it would have been better if it were someone we could all put a name or a face to.

[budman]

Put my name to it...I don't care...Iv'e been the butt of worse jokes...lol
another?
> Dear Tech Support:
>
> Last year I upgraded fromGirlfriend 7.0 toWife 1.0. I soon noticed
> that the new program began unexpected child processing that took up a
> lot of space and valuable resources. In addition,Wife 1.0installed
> itself into all other programs and now monitors all other system
> activity. Applications such asPoker Night 10.3,Football 5.0,Hunting
> and Fishing 7.5, andRacing 3.6 no longer run, crashing the system
> whenever selected.
>
> I can't seem to keep Wife 1.0 in the background while attempting to
> run my favorite applications. I'm thinking about going back
> toGirlfriend 7.0, butthe uninstalldoesn't work onWife 1.0. Please
> help!
>
> Thanks,
> ATroubled User. (KEEP READING)
> ______________________________________
>
> REPLY:
> Dear Troubled User:
>
> This is a very common problem that men complain about.
>
> Many people upgrade fromGirlfriend 7.0 toWife 1.0, thinking that it is
> just a Utilities and Entertainment program.Wife 1.0 is anOPERATING
> SYSTEMand is designed by its Creator to runEVERYTHING!!! It is also
> impossible to deleteWife 1.0 and to return toGirlfriend 7.0. It is
> impossible to uninstall, or purge the program files from the
> systemonceinstalled.
>
> You cannot go back toGirlfriend 7.0becauseWife 1.0 is designed to not
> allow this. Look in your Wife 1.0 manual under
> Warnings-Alimony-Child Support. I recommend that you keepWife1.0and
> work on improving the situation. I suggest installing the background
> application"YesDear"to alleviate software augmentation.
>
> The best course of action is to enter the commandC:\APOLOGIZEbecause
> ultimately you will have to give the APOLOGIZE command before the
> system will return to normal anyway.
>
> Wife 1.0 is a great program, but it tends to be very high maintenance.
> Wife 1.0comes with several support programs, such asClean and Sweep
> 3.0, Cook It 1.5 and Do Bills 4.2.
>
> However, be very careful how you use these programs. Improper use will
> cause the system to launch the programNag Nag 9.5. Once this happens,
> the only way to improve the performance of Wife 1.0 is to purchase
> additional software. I recommendFlowers 2.1 andDiamonds5.0 !
>
> WARNING!!! DO NOT, under any circumstances,install Secretary With
> Short Skirt 3.3.This application is not supported by Wife 1.0 and will
> cause irreversible damage to the operating system.
>
> Best of luck,
> Tech Support
>
> The information contained in this communication may be confidential, is
> intended only for the use of the recipient(s) named above, and may be
> legally privileged.  You are hereby notified that any dissemination,
> distribution or copying of this communication and any of its contents
> or
> attachments is strictly prohibited.  If you have received this
> communication in error, please notify us immediately by replying to
> this
> message and please delete this message from all computers and servers.
> The information contained in this communication may be confidential, is
> intended only for the use of the recipient(s) named above, and may be
> legally privileged.  You are hereby notified that any dissemination,
> distribution or copying of this communication and any of its contents
> or
> attachments is strictly prohibited.  If you have received this
> communication in error, please notify us immediately by replying to
> this
> message and please delete this message from all computers and servers.

[Honda328i]

New York's JUNIOR Senator Hillary Clinton was attending a party, when she noticed Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger.  She walked over to him, and in a quiet voice said. "If you were my husband, I would poison your drink."

Schwarzenegger smiled, leaned forward, and whispered in her ear, "And if you were my wife, I would drink it."

[SkyHighT100]

You are SO dirty! Lmao

[LTZ400ApK]

WTF Damn mods always delete'n $hit
That was a good joke man
Lost my vote for president

[Da_Mtg_Man]

I  hope you're not refering to me. I haven't removed anything from this thread.

[LTZ400ApK]

No just you guys in general no one specific  

Gotta bust someones balls saltsdale thread is dead  

[Honda328i]

An Indian walks into a cafe with a shotgun in one hand and a bucket of buffalo manure in the other.  He says to the waiter, "Me want coffee."

The waiter says, "Sure chief, coming right up." He gets the Indian a tall mug of coffee, and the Indian drinks it down in one gulp, picks up the bucket of manure, throws it into the air, blasts it with the shotgun, then just walks out.

The next morning the Indian returns.  He has his shotgun in one and a bucket of buffalo manure in the other.  He walks up to the counter and says to the waiter, "Me want coffee."

The waiter says, "Whoa, Tonto.  We're still cleaning up your mess from the last time you were here.  What the heck was all that about, anyway?"

The Indian smiles and proudly says, "Me in training for upper management position.  Come in, drink coffee, shoot the sh*t, and disappear for the rest of the day."

[Qdawg76]

LMAO, that was funny and true

[budman]

The US Navy today announced that it has released a senior Al Quaeda terrorist after questioning him extensively for 27 days while being held prisoner aboard a US aircraft carrier in the Arabian Sea.

In a humanitarian gesture, the terrorist was given $50 US and a white Ford Fairlane automobile upon being released from custody.

The attached photo shows the terrorist on his way home just after being released by the Navy.

[yunt2ride]

Question: Does anyone know how to make a cat go WOOF





Answer: A gallon of gas and a lighter.  

[races2win]

  ok heres one of mine

an english major and a pollock are in a poetry contest. it comes down to the two of them locked in a tie. the judges decide to have a run off and tell each of them they have to make up they're own poem. but, they have to use the word timbuktu in it. they have five minutes.

five min later the english major goes first. he says " traveling across the desert sands, riding along in a caravan, camels in a row two by two, on our way to timbuktu!  everyone aplauds loudly. the pollock jumps up and grabs the mike and says i got one....here it goes..

tim and i away we went, came across three whores in a tent, they were three and we were two, i bucked one and tim bucked two!!!