Summer Girls Puns

She wasn’t unusual, nor was the travel bag she carried, except for one thing. She would approach people who were sitting on the beach, glance around, then speak to them.

Generally, the people would respond negatively and she would wander off, but occasionally someone would nod and there would be a quick exchange of money for something she carried in her bag.

The couple assumed she was selling drugs and debated calling the cops, but since they didn’t know for sure they just continued to watch her.

After a couple of weeks the wife asked, “Honey, have you ever noticed that she only goes up to people with boom boxes and other electronic devices?”

He hadn’t and said so. Then she said, “Tomorrow I want you to get a towel and our big radio and go lie out on the beach. Then we can find out what she’s really doing.”

Well, the plan went off without a hitch, and the wife was almost hopping up and down with anticipation when she saw the girl talk to her husband and then leave. The man walked up the beach and met his wife at the road. “Well, is she selling drugs?” she asked excitedly.”

“No, she’s not.” he said, enjoying this probably more than he should have.

“Well, what is it, then?” his wife fairly shrieked.

The man grinned and said. “Her name is Sally and she’s selling batteries.”

“Batteries?” cried the wife.

“Yes,” he replied. “She sells C cells by the Seashore.”

Get it? Met-a-four?

She said "no, they're new."

Some of her/our friends came along too. One friend had an exchange student from Mexico with them.

The girl I'm interested in's dad, and the exchange student meet and introduce themselves, then it goes...

Her dad: "So what part of Mexico are you from?"

Student: "My family and I live in Monterrey."

Dad: "Oh wonderful! And what kind of drugs does your family sell?"

-Awkward pause, his daughter appalled, face in palms, completely embarrassed-

Dad: "Hahahah, I'm just kidding, welcome aboard!"

This is pretty much how the whole day went on the river, joke after joke, story after story, and his daughter was completely embarrassed. So great.

Gotta be careful- summer 18, but summer younger.

Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevor’s love for tractors.

Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.

Trevors’s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.

The hedges in Trevor’s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.

Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.

Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasn’t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.

One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.

Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.

“Well” said Jeff, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.

The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.

“Yes of course” replied Trevor

• I realised I was dyslexic when I went to a toga party dressed as a goat

• I went up to the airport information desk. I said "How many airports are there in the world?"

• I hate fat girls who use the excuse "oh the camera adds 10lb" Well, stop eating cameras then.

• At the check-in desk the girl said, ''Window seat or aisle?''

l said, ''Window seat or you'll what? Are you threatening me?''

She said, ''No, calm down. Window seat or aisle?''

l said, ''l'll have a seat.''

• When you eat a lot of spicy food, you can lose your taste. When I was in Mexico last summer, I was listening to a lot of Michael Bolton.

• A lady with a clipboard stopped me in the street the other day. She said: "Can you spare a few minutes for cancer research?" I said: "All right, but we won't get much done"

• Did you know you're ten times more likely to get mugged in London than New York City? Thats because you don't live in New York City.

• Swimming is good for you, especially if you're drowning. Not only do you get a cardiovascular workout but also you don't die.

• British scientists have demonstrated that cigarettes can harm your children. Fair enough. Use an ashtray.

I was bringing in a baked good that those who share my religious faith eat on special occasions. This was also the summer when the song "Hollaback Girl" was popular. As I'm leaving the car, my dad tells me, "If nobody eats the bread, make sure you don't bring it back, because then you'd be a Challah-back Boy."

Paul has a shitty life, his wife constantly berates him, his job sucks, his boss is a bully, his car is a shitty 85 ford pinto with a cracked windshield and is in bad need of a new transmission and to top it all off he's chubby, balding, and he has a small penis.

The only thing good in Paul's life is his friend Artie. Artie isn't the brightest bulb in the world, but he's always been there for Paul in the tough times. On October 5, 1953 Artie stood up for Paul against his bully in 7th grade. Artie got his ass handed to him at that time, but so did Paul. That incident resulted in a life long friendship. Paul and Artie went to the same High School together. They traveled around Europe that one summer in college. Artie was Paul's best man at his wedding. Everyone thought speech Artie gave was terrible, But Paul loved it Artie was his best friend.

Artie's life wasn't much better either, he never had the smarts for that great Job. In fact he was stuck in a dead end job as a construction labourer. Artie's car was pretty shitty too. Artie never married, but he was happy in the knowledge that at least he didn't end up with Paul's shitty wife.

For Paul's 46th birthday Artie was pretty broke, so all he could get his friend was a single lottery ticket. Artie being the sentimental guy that he was picked the date of the start of their friendship, and their respective ages (46, 45). Paul loved the present, and thought that the two of them should go to the Legion that friday to split a round of beers and listen to them call out the numbers.

On Friday they are both sitting there at the Legion having a laugh over a couple of beers when the cute lottery girl comes on the t.v. to read out the numbers. Paul pulls out the ticket and spreads it out on the beer stained table in front of them. The lottery girl starts reading out the numbers, 45, 10, 05. Both of Paul and Artie's hearts start beating, thats 200$ already. 53, Holy crap thats like a 10, 000 ticket. They both start losing their shit. 46....... Paul feints. He just won the jackpot. 37million dollars.

Two minutes later Artie finally revives Paul. Paul and Artie celebrate the night away, buy round after round for the people at the Legion and get absolutely shittered. They close out the bar and as the ugly lights come on they stumble blitzed, singing, onto the street arm in arm with the winning lottery ticket in hand and start the long walk back to Paul's place.

Halfway home, Paul comes to two drunken