I call it a Tramp o' Lean
Boeing Boeing Boeing!
A receding hare line
Rick O'Shea
Rick O Shea
credit: /u/Mustardbyname at /r/Jokes/comments/d2ngk7/its_my_cake_day_today_so_ill_give_you_one_of_my/
Rick O'Shea (Not my joke, saw it on Twitter)
Recovering and bruised, he slowly climbs the tree again, jumps and falls to the ground.
The turtle tries again and again, while a couple of birds sitting on a branch watch his pathetic efforts.
Finally, the female bird turns to her mate, “Darling, don't you think it’s time to tell him he’s adopted?"
Turns out they were an elastic band.
Rick O'Shea
I think his name is Rick O'shea
How so? .....rubber feet!
That’s inflation for you!
This doesn’t happen with pigeons, though. This is because a coo sticks
The sound from a pigeon does not, because a coo sticks.
Because of the inflation
Before anyone else says anything, it said,
"You better serve me here, or I'm taking you to court!"
This is because of a-coo-sticks.
His name is Rick O’Shea.
When she finds out, my wife is going to hit the roof.
Boeing, Boeing, Boeing
When we were Christmas shopping for our kids, we went to target. After walking around for a while I got bored and eventually found a bouncy ball. It was a small inflatable basketball about tennis ball sized and being inflated instead of solid rubber, it made a louder noise when it hit the ground.
We were walking around and I was bouncing the ball. My wife got visibly irritated at the constant noise following her around and told me to please put it down. I bounced it again and said "I'm trying, but every time I do, it comes back up into my hand"
Que the groan.
His name is Rick o'shay
Because it was filled with spring water.
I swear this is a true organic dad joke I had tonight. Felt I’d share it with reddit.
My kid came up to me and says “oh no, look dad, it needs a bandaid” as she gently presents her imaginarily injured bouncy ball.
I looked at my kid and said “I don’t think it needs a bandaid, he looks like he’s going to bounce back”
Bump…
Bump…
Bump…
Walking faster, he looks back and through the fog he makes out the image of an upright casket banging its way down the middle of the street toward him.
Bump…
Bump…
BUMP…
Terrified, the man begins to run toward his home. The casket still bouncing quickly behind him.
Faster…
Faster…
FASTER…
Bump…
Bump…
BUMP…
He runs up to his door, fumbles with the keys, opens the door, rushes in and slams and locks the door behind him.
Rushing up the stairs to his bathroom, the man locks himself in. His heart is pounding. His head is reeling. His breath is coming in sobbing gasps.
With a loud CRASH the casket breaks down the door. Bumping and clapping towards him.
The man screams and reaches for something, anything, but all he can find is cough syrup!
Desperate, he throws the cough syrup as the casket!
And…
The coffin stops….
a BOING 747
A lot of bouncing back and forth.
It went over his head.
A boing.
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
... keep reading on reddit ➡That is, at least not long enough to learn any of the many, many important things a frog needs to learn in order to be a frog.
You see, a frog needs to be super slick in order to get by. A frog without proper skills, well, he may as well be a toad.
Anyways, every time Mama Frog went about trying to teach Little Hop something, he would just bounce.. and bounce.. and bounce..
And every time Mama Frog had reached her limit of patience, right before giving up, she’d say to Little Hop, “If you keep on keepin’ on hoppin around all aimless, I’m gonna turn you into a toad!”
Which, upon hearing, Little Hop would stop his hop and settle. You see, he knew well enough that he wanted no part of being a toad.
Well, on one particular day, during one such lesson, Little Hop had taken again to bouncing here, and bouncing there - and just about everywhere besides a place he could listen! And on this same particular day, Mama Frog’s patience was worn real, real, thin, you see, and she got sudden filled with a terrible frustration.
And just like a firecracker went off, in a sudden snap, Mama Frog turned Little Hop straight into a toad!
And when it was done, Mama Frog looked at him direct, shook her head, and said..
“I toad you so.”
"Okay, bye. I'm gonna bounce now."
Rick O Shea
Boeing, Boeing, Boeing
Boeing, Boeing, Boeing.
What do you call an Irishman bouncing off the walls?
Rick O Shea
The reason is a coo sticks.
“Boeing, Boeing, Boeing”
Boeing!
Rick O'Shay.
Boeing!
Boeing Boeing Boeing.
