Old City Puns

"Road Block"

I suppose you could say my life is in ruins

So, she walks over and takes a seat next to him on the bench, turns to him and says, "Sorry to bother you. I know this may be a little forward but I would love to grab coffee with you some time."

Flattered, the man responds, "Sure... but what makes you so certain you and I would get along so well?"

"Well..." the woman says. "A couple things, actually. I noticed you were wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt. Iron Maiden are my favorite band of all time. When they went on their reunion tour in 1999, my parents took me to see them in Cleveland. I was 12 years old and it was the first concert I ever went to. I absolutely love Iron Maiden."

The man can't believe it.

"I saw them play Cleveland in '99! First concert I ever went to on my own. My best friend Jimmy Spitz and I told our parents we were sleeping at each others' houses, snuck out, took a bus into the city and saw them play at the Plain Dealer Pavillion!"

Naturally, they're both shocked.

"If that isn't weird enough..." says the woman. "I noticed you're reading Mark Twain. I was a communications major in university and I actually wrote my thesis on Mark Twain and how he used satire as a lens to comment on current events of the time, comparing him to satirical news sources of today. He's my favorite author."

Now the man is really taken aback, "Get out of here! I was an English major in university! I specialized in 19th century American literature and this is like my fourth or fifth time reading Tom Sawyer, I absolutely love Mark Twain."

They both can't believe it...this has got to be a match made in heaven.

"Ok..." the woman says. "Well, buckle up because here's the icing on the cake. I noticed you're eating a prune. Prunes are my absolute favorite fruit. When I was a kid, my grandfather lived on a farm. He had an orchard that mainly grew apples and some lemons, but he knew how much my sister and I loved prunes so he kept a couple of plum trees. Every year at the end of the summer, we'd go up and harvest the plums with him. He'd dry them and by the time we'd go back to his place for Thanksgiving he'd always have those prunes saved just for us. They're my favorite fruit! I love prunes, you're eating a prune, this has got to be fate. What do you say?"

The man puts down his fruit and responds,

"It's a date!"

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Bromberg later became part of the Kingdom of Prussia, changed hands a few more times (including a short period of Napoleonic rule), before it finally became Polish again after World War I. The Polish government reinstated the old name of the city, deciding to let Bydgoszcz be Bydgoszcz.

Two high school students named Steve and Josh found themselves broke on a saturday afternoon while strolling around in the city mall. They hadn't eaten lunch and they were getting hungry, but alas, they had no money for food and they were hours away from home.

"I heard there's a place downtown where you can get a sandwich for free" Steve said to Josh.

"That sounds great, let's check it out" Josh replied, and they headed downtown.

They soon found the place. It was a small shop, too small to feel like a real business. The place had no tables or chairs, and not really much furniture at all. An old man stood behind a small counter and eyed them as they entered.

"Welcome to the Laughing Hoagie" he said.

"What is a laughing hoagie?" Josh wondered.

"It's the name of this sandwich place. This is not a regular sandwich shop. We have a special offer here for people who can't afford to pay for their food." the man said as he smiled a toothy smile at them.

"So it's true then," Josh blurted out, "we can get free food here?"

"Not so fast." The old man said. "There is a condition."

"What is it?" Steve wondered aloud.

"Well," the man started "you have to listen to one of my jokes, and the one of you who laughs the most genuine laugh gets a free sandwhich. The other one gets nothing."

As he said this, the old man opened a small refrigerator that stood behind the counter and produced a large, footlong sandwhich with ham, cheese, bacon, lettuce and tomatoes. It was covered in a white dressing and gave off a faint peppery aroma. The boys' mouths started watering at the sight of it.

"What? So only one of us gets a sandwhich?" Steve asked, taken aback.

"Those are the rules," the old man grinned, "if you don't like it, you may leave."

"Nah, we'll hear the joke." Josh said. Steve looked at him, and then nodded to the old man.

"All right." the old man rubbed his hands together as if preparing to dig into a strenuous task.

"What did the mother Buffalo say when her boy left for college?" he asked, and looked expectantly at the teens. They both stared at him with blank expressions.

"Bye Son!" he exclaimed, and struggled not to burst out giggling at his own quip. Josh chuckled a bit, but Steve just frowned.

"That was the worst joke I ever heard!" he exclaimed.

"Well," the old man said as he handed the sandwich over to Josh, "if you don't like jokes with really bad punchlines, then this sub is not for you."

Her: "Urban Italy looks like a bad place to be with a rented car."

Me: "Yeah, I suppose there are some very old & busy cities there."

Her: "I don't know if I could do it. My Dad drove in Greece and that was bad enough."

Me: "Oof yeah, sounds sketchy. Though you'd think they'd have cleaned it up by now."

Her: ?

Me: "The grease."

He can't afford to buy a whole herd of cows all at once, but he figures he can start small and work up. So he buys a dozen cows and two bulls. He puts the bulls in separate pastures, and splits the cows evenly, and waits. After a couple weeks, he realizes that most of the cows in one pasture are pregnant, but on the other side of the fence, nothing has been happening. He calls up his neighbor, Elmer, an old country feller who has been farming since he could walk. "See, there's your problem," the old man says, "That one's a bull, but the other's a steer." The city slicker says, "Well, I don't know what the difference is. Could you put it in terms I might understand better?" Elmer says, "Well..."

"One's regular and the other is de-calf."

A New York new yolk.

My 8 year old daughter just made this one up over dinner in little Italy. We're in the city visiting my wife's brother's family who had their first baby last summer. I was pretty impressed and had to share.

There are three classes of cheerios, the lower class (plain ol' cheerios), the middle class cheerios (frosted), and the elite class (honey nut). One soggy morning in Seattle, a plain cheerio awoke in his single room apartment. He looked out at the still sleepy city, blanketed in a mist of rain. He quickly got dressed and put his shoes on, this would be the day. He stood propped against the bus stop, smoking a cigarette. "God I have got to stop this habit." He thought to himself. Glancing back and forth at the bustle of cheerios, he saw her. She looked about 25, devastatingly gorgeous, and he could smell the honey from where he stood. "Excuse me ma'am," his voice quivered, "I - I think you might be the most beautiful cheerio I have ever seen." She smiled and her otherwise golden brown face grew red. " This is a long shot, but will you marry me?' She was obviously caught off guard by this, but her red lips formed the word, "Yes." They raced through the morning mist of the city, and arrived at her fathers house. The cheerio bent down in front of her father. "Sir, I would like to ask for your blessing in marrying your daughter" "No! You are a regular cheerio and my daughter needs a high quality honey nut" he snapped. "But sir." "No means no damnit!" "Sir this is very unrea-" "You come back a honey nut and you'll have my blessing, my daughter is not about to marry a low life like you." The cheerio sprinted home, tears streaming down his face. He fumbled against the lock and sprawled out on his bed. When he awoke it was early, his sheets had a dark silhouette from his wet jacket. He sat up and lit a cigarette. "Damn." he sighed to himself. Walking in front of his mirror, he noticed something different. His body was frosted! He had become a frosted cheerio! He darted out the door without shoes, reaching the honey nut household in no time at all. He banged on the door, and the beauty's father answered. "Sir I am a changed cheerio! I'm frosted!" he exclaimed. Her father had a stern look on his face. "You think you are any better? The dirt on my boots are worth more than you." he hissed. The old honey nut slammed the door on the young frosted. He heard the deadbolt click. The newly frosted cheerio didn't take the same way home. He stood on the edge of a bridge, feeling the cool autumn wind on his sugar coated skin. Was he really going to go through with this? Was it worth it? No he was a frosted cheerio now. He couldn't get the girl, but he was a changed cheerio. He

A woman was at her hairdresser's getting her hair styled for a trip
to Rome with her husband..

She mentioned the trip to the hairdresser, who responded: " Rome? Why would anyone want to go there? It's crowded and dirty.
You're crazy to go to Rome. So, how are you getting there?"

"We're taking Continental," was the reply. "We got a great rate!"

"Continental?" exclaimed the hairdresser. "That's a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are ugly, and they're always late.
So, where are you staying in Rome?"

"We'll be at this exclusive little place over on Rome's Tiber River called Teste."

"Don't go any further. I know that place. Everybody thinks it's going to be something special and exclusive, but it's really a dump."

"We're going to go to see the Vatican and maybe get to see the Pope."

"That's rich," laughed the hairdresser. "You and a million other people trying to see him. He'll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on this lousy trip of yours. You're going to need it."

A month later, the woman again came in for a hairdo.
The hairdresser asked her about her trip to Rome.

"It was wonderful," explained the woman, "not only were we on time in one of Continental's brand new planes, but it was overbooked, and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were wonderful,
and I had a handsome 28-year-old steward who waited on me hand and foot..
And the hotel was great! They'd just finished a $5 million remodeling job, and now it's a jewel, the finest hotel in the city.
They, too, were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us their owner's suite at no extra charge!"

"Well," muttered the hairdresser, "that's all well and good, but I know you didn't get to see the Pope."

"Actually, we were quite lucky, because as we toured the Vatican, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder, and explained that the Pope likes to meet some of the visitors, and if I'd be so kind as to step into his private room and wait, the Pope would personally greet me.
Sure enough, five minutes later, the Pope walked through the door and shook my hand! I knelt down and he spoke a few words to me."

"Oh, really! What'd he say?"

scroll down.....

He said: "Who fucked up your hair?"

I go to school in Berkeley, CA, which--to put it lightly--isn't in the running for "Clean City, USA". The other day, I was swapping out my nice expensive shoes for my old tattered street sneakers when my friend asked why I was switching. My dad senses kicked in:

"Could you imagine me walking through the streets of Berkeley in my nice clean dress shoes? The poor soles!"

I'm an editor at a big-city weekly, she's a reporter at a daily in a mid-sized town:

Her: I'm literally chasing down a story about an old lady's birthday party. I need something different.

Me: Literally, huh? Why is she running from you?

I took my two kids (4 and 6) to the new aquarium in our city. They have a petting tank with harmless bamboo sharks. I reach in to the tank. 4 year old: "Is it dangerous?" Me: "Yep" and get a good look of slight fear from him. I then pull my hand out with my ring finger bent over and show it to him. He responds with a look of abject horror. 6 year old: "Stop messing with us!" Unfold my finger and show them. My 4 year old was not amused.

4-Year-Old: "I want to be a lifeguard at Atlantic City."

Me: "That's cool."

Father-in-law : "No it's not. That sun gets very hot at the beach."

The bus ride to the station had been very stressful. I spent the entire time worrying if the bus even stopped at the train station. I ended up spending nearly an hour making two loops around the city before I finally realized that I had to hop off near the station. Public transport. Jesus.

I'd missed the train I wanted to catch due to my hour-long bus ride, so I had some time to kill before the next one arrived. It had been cold and raining when I left in the morning, but by lunch time it was warm and I was sweating, standing on the station in a big yellow hoodie and jeans.

I had overslept and skipped breakfast earlier, so I resolved not to let the loud farts coming from the old man next to me kill my appetite. I was desperate for a snack.

Initially the vending machine told me it would accept "EXACT CHANGE ONLY". Slightly annoying, but no real problem: I just fished out my change, inserted some alternative coins and punched in the number. I watched the object of my desire inch forwards, ready to drop into the bottom where I could collect it. For some reason I was terrified that it might get stuck. Robbed by a robot, how embarrassing. Luckily the packet fell into the tray. Finally something was going my way.

As I reached into the bottom of the machine and pushed open the metal door, it suddenly stuck. It was wedged in place and the gap was too small for my snack to fit through. "Motherfucker..." I whispered under my breath.

But I was too invested to give up now. Determined not to be beaten by a bloody machine, I pulled hard and the packet burst, spilling chips into the tray. I managed to salvage about half of the crisps and ate them greedily. Partially crushed, but still deliciously cheesy.

At this point it occurred to me that perhaps I should tell the station operator that the vending machine was broken. I walked up to the ticket office and saw a bored, tired looking man in his forties. "I just thought I'd let you know the vending machine is jammed," I announced.

The attendant got up, walked over over to the vending machine and gave it a solid kick, dislodging the little metal door which had foiled me. When he turned to me again his expression had changed from boredom to amusement. "So what flavour was it then? Strawberry?"

I groaned, but couldn't resist a smile.

I knew it was going to be a good day.