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 (nobody)...and 352 guests Last 5 registered Oplandisks nothingstar N_loop yipe foxtrotromeo Browse members... |
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Members 8025Messages 2614114 Today 0 Topics 127542 |
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I've heard that before... And find it strangely difficult to believe that an anus would only taste like a 9-volt. Cuz i've licked a 9-volt before, and it had never come into contact with faeces. |
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Q. why did the pervert cross the road? A. Cause she couldn't get her finger out of the chicken. |
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the best jokes are anecdotes |
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>the best jokes are anecdotes haha ,yeah, i get it. :P |
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How do you stop black kids from jumping on the bed? Put velcro on the ceiling. How do then get the kids down from the ceiling? Invite some mexicans over for a pinata party. |
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Why did Pepsi cancel a contract with Heath Ledger? Because he'd had one too many cokes.. |
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Why does Rupert The Bear wear yellow trousers? Because he's a twat. |
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Q: What do you call a cow that's just given birth? A: De-calf-inated |
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Q: What's the bonus track on Quaristice in Japan? A: Nu-Nr6d! |
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I don't get it! |
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I did. It only cost $23 as an import CD. $23... hmmm, maybe THAT'S the punchline. |
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what did the karate boy say to the other karate boy?? HIYA! |
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a woman is lying on the deathbed and confesses to her husband: "ive been sleeping with your friend, hans" the husband replies: "i know, he got the same poison" |
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q: why are gays always the first to leave the hotel? a: because they got their shit packed the night before! |
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xltronic |
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whats got 8 legs & scares women? gang rape. |
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What did the Alabama sherriff call the nigger who had been shot 15 times? Worst case of suicide he had ever seen. |
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I've noted that many of the jokes in this category fall into the following categories: a) Racist (usually prefaced by a 'I'm not racist but...') b) Misogynistic c) Lazy 'non-jokes' / nonsensical - like pale imitations of Zen Koans almost Saying that, a lot of the jokes in this thread are funny, and most of them have nice avatars too! ho, ho, ho. |
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i'm not a racist but black women am right? (<---check it out) |
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LULZ |
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yo mama so skinny she gotta run around in the shower to get wet |
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yo mama so dumb she sat on the TV and watched the couch yo mama's house so dirty the roaches had to file a complaint yo mama so fat she went to McDonalds and said give me one of each. when they asked is that everything she said, yea i'm on a diet. |
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I am not a racist. |
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Mine is racist, but it goes both ways. |
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lol |
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1:Knock knock 2:Who's there? 1:Yodelayhee 2:Yodelayhee who? 1:Yodelayhee Johnson... -------------------------------- 1:Knock Knock 2:Who's there? 1:Abraham Lincoln 2:Abraham Lincoln who? 1:Don't you know me?!! great topic. |
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desert. He’d decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldn’t get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here. He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that he’d paid attention to the sun and thought he’d figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and he’d be back to the small town he’d gotten gas in last. He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, he’s afraid that he’ll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So, he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication later, brings an umbrella he’d had in the back of the SUV with him to give him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the direction he thinks is right. He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he’s really thirsty. He’s been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He’s reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket is really getting tempting now. He knows that it’s mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to it to keep people from drinking |
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poison would be worse than dying of thirst. He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark. By the end of the day he starts getting worried. He figures he’s been walking at least 3 miles an hour, according to his watch for over 10 hours. That means that if his estimate was right that he should be close to the town. But he doesn’t recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesn’t remember coming through it in the SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he’s close, and that after dark he’ll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills, and that’ll be all he needs. As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things, he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights. Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars. He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like they’re full of sand. He so thirsty that he can’t even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He’d forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn’t noticed it the night before because he’d been in his car |
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He knows the Rule of Threes - three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food - then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. But the desert heat and having to walk and sweat isn’t the best situation to be without water. He figures, unless he finds water, this is his last day. He rinses his mouth out with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits a while after spitting that little bit out, to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in his mind? He’s not sure. He’ll go a little farther, and if he still doesn’t find water, he’ll try drinking some of the fluid. Then he has to face his next, harder question - which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way he was yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do. Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking. As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that - when you stop sweating he knows that means you’re in trouble - usually right before heat stroke. He decides that it’s time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can’t wait any longer - if he passes out, he’s dead. He stops in the shade of a large rock, takes the bottle out, opens it, and takes a mouthful. He slowly swallows it, making it last as long as he can. It feels so good in his dry and cracked throat that he doesn’t even care about the nasty taste. He takes another mouthful, and makes it last too. Slowly, he drinks half the bottle. |
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He figures that since he’s drinking it, he might as well drink enough to make some difference and keep himself from passing out. He’s quit worrying about the denaturing of the wiper fluid. If it kills him, it kills him - if he didn’t drink it, he’d die anyway. Besides, he’s pretty sure that whatever substance they denature the fluid with is just designed to make you sick - their way of keeping winos from buying cheap wiper fluid for the ethanol content. He can handle throwing up, if it comes to that. He walks. He walks in the hot, dry, windless desert. Sand, rocks, hills, dunes, the occasional scrawny cactus or dried bush. No sign of water. Sometimes he’ll see a little movement to one side or the other, but whatever moved is usually gone before he can focus his eyes on it. Probably birds, lizards, or mice. Maybe snakes, though they usually move more at night. He’s careful to stay away from the movements. After a while, he begins to stagger. He’s not sure if it’s fatigue, heat stroke finally catching him, or maybe he was wrong and the denaturing of the wiper fluid was worse than he thought. He tries to steady himself, and keep going. After more walking, he comes to a large stretch of sand. This is good! He knows he passed over a stretch of sand in the SUV - he remembers doing donuts in it. Or at least he thinks he remembers it - he’s getting woozy enough and tired enough that he’s not sure what he remembers any more or if he’s hallucinating. But he thinks he remembers it. So he heads off into it, trying to get to the other side, hoping that it gets him closer to the town. He was heading for a town, wasn’t he? He thinks he was. He isn’t sure any more. He’s not even sure how long he’s been walking any more. Is it still morning? Or has it moved into afternoon and the sun is going down again? It must be afternoon - it seems like it’s been too long since he started out. He walks through the |
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sand. This is bad. He doesn’t remember any dunes when driving over the sand in his SUV. Or at least he doesn’t think he remembers any. This is bad. But, he has no other direction to go. Too late to turn back now. He figures that he’ll get to the top of the dune and see if he can see anything from there that helps him find the town. He keeps going up the dune. Halfway up, he slips in the bad footing of the sand for the second or third time, and falls to his knees. He doesn’t feel like getting back up - he’ll just fall down again. So, he keeps going up the dune on his hand and knees. While crawling, if his throat weren’t so dry, he’d laugh. He’s finally gotten to the hackneyed image of a man lost in the desert - crawling through the sand on his hands and knees. If would be the perfect image, he imagines, if only his clothes were more ragged. The people crawling through the desert in the cartoons always had ragged clothes. But his have lasted without any rips so far. Somebody will probably find his dessicated corpse half buried in the sand years from now, and his clothes will still be in fine shape -shake the sand out, and a good wash, and they’d be wearable again. He wishes his throat were wet enough to laugh. He coughs a little instead, and it hurts. He finally makes it to the top of the sand dune. Now that he’s at the top, he struggles a little, but manages to stand up and look around. All he sees is sand. Sand, and more sand. Behind him, about a mile away, he thinks he sees the rocky ground he left to head into this sand. Ahead of him, more dunes, more sand. This isn’t where he drove his SUV. This is Hell. Or close enough. |
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theres more, but fuck this already. |
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my life |
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what black and blue and doesnt like sex? rape victim. whats 21 inches long and makes women cry? cot death. whats blue and orange and sits at the bottom of a swimming pool? baby with burst arm bands. |
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Q: Why do bagpipers walk when they play? A: To get away from the noise. Q. How do you get two bagpipes to play a perfect unison? A. Shoot one. Q. How do you make a chain saw sound like a bagpipe? A. Add vibrato. actually, i really love bagpipes :P *turns on RealMckenzies* |
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