The man sitting next to her asks, "Do you mind if I say a word?" "Absolutely", she responds. So the man walks up to the podium and clears his throat. "Plethora" he says. Then he comes and sits back down. "Thank you", the woman says. "That means a lot."
It went in one ear and out of the other.
It's a Cemer Tree.
Dead center.
She said "thank you, that means a lot"
and the company refused to refund my purchase because it had already been de-livered.
Without missing a beat my dad goes "Why didn't they just keep him in the trunk.
I'm still laughing like a drunken seal.
But the taxidermist only did her back half. It was a cat-ass-trophey.
Harembe.
It was a cat-ass-trophy.
The chef told the man that he has bigger fish to fry.
He started a school on the moon. And all my friends wanted to go there because they heard there's a lot less pressure.
This was one of her favorite jokes she loved to tell: One day, a man was walking home after a long day at work. As he waited for a crosswalk signal, he glanced back and noticed a coffin standing down the block. "Odd," he thought, but he ignored it and continued home. He turned the corner and managed to catch a glimpse of the coffin again. This time is was closer to him... like it was following him. He picked up his pace and ran into his apartment complex. The coffin was right behind him. In a fright, he dashed up the stairs to his place, locked the door and barricaded himself in the bathroom. Thud, thud, thud! The coffin was banging on the bathroom door. The man frantically looked for something to defend himself. Just as the coffin busted through the door, the man grabbed some cough syrup from the medicine cabinet, threw it at the coffin ... and the coffin stopped.
The mortician asked the deceased’s wife how she would like the body dressed. He points out the man looks good in the black suit he’s already wearing. The widow however said she thought her husband always looked his best in blue, and she would really like him in a blue suit. She then hands the mortician a blank cheque and says “I don’t care how much it costs, but please have my husband in a blue suit for the viewing.” The woman returns the next day for the wake. To her delight she finds her husband dressed in a gorgeous blue suit with a subtle chalk stripe. Remarkably, the suit fit him perfectly. She says to the mortician, “whatever this costs I’m very satisfied, you did an excellent job and I’m incredibly grateful. How much did you spend?” To her astonishment the mortician presents her with her blank cheque, and he says “there’s no charge.” Shocked she replies “no really, I feel like i must compensate you for the cost of that exquisite blue suit.” “Honestly ma’am”, the mortician says, “it costs nothing, you see a diseased gentleman about your husbands size was brought in shortly after you left yesterday. He was wearing an attractive blue suit. So I asked his wife if she minded if her husband went to the grave wearing black. She had said it made no difference so long as he looked nice. So from that point on it was really just a matter of switching the heads.”
The woman asked the doctor about the baby.
The doctor: Congratulations. You had twins, both boys. They're both fine. And your brother named them a for you.
Woman: No. No. No! Not my brother. He's an idiot! What did he name them?
Doctor: He named one of them Pete, after your deceased father as he told me.
Woman: Oh that's actually a very nice name. What did he name the other boy?
Doctor: deeply sighs RePete.
When going through some of my deceased father's things, I found a card that says "Gold Mouse Story" and "Do you have a little gold Mexican?". This is sort of a shorthand he used to jot down jokes on index cards - a short description and the punchline.
I have no idea what this might refer to so I am asking here. Does this sound familiar? I apologize in advance if it turns out to be racist!
The cashier asked me, "are you going to put this on your Home Depot Card?"
"Nah, I'm going to put it on my chicken coop."
Wife, upon hearing it: "Nice one, 'John' (deceased father's name, not mine...I learned from the master).
My father is deceased and my brother has no children. I feel this is my obligation to the family.
this was years ago, I had forgotten until it came up in conversation today. when Finding Nemo came out on DVD most of us hadn't seen it, and my oldest sister was home from her first year in college. my mom gets all excited to have a Disney movie night for old time's sake and makes a big deal about it.
so we all get settled with popcorn and all, and the movie begins. if you haven't seen it, the first scene is a bit tragic... to refresh people's memory, a barracuda attacks the soon-to-be parents and eats the mom and unhatched eggs. this is probably less than 5 minutes into the movie.
it's dead quiet in the house as Marlin swims around yelling for his mate and looking in the now empty spot where their eggs were hidden. He sees the lone surviving egg on the ocean floor and swims to it. honoring his deceased mate's wishes, he names his only child "Nemo"
instantly my dad stands up, turns off the TV and says "Ha! I found him! that was fun." and walks away.
tl;dr: my dad beat the whole family in a game of "Finding Nemo"
Recently, Joe has been under the slight suspicion that his wife is cheating on him. So, one day he comes home early from work, to his crap-shoot apartment on the eighth floor, and hears her scurrying around when he enters. Almost as if there's another person in the house. When he calls out her name she hollers back that she just ran into the shower. So he investigates the bedroom and encounters a shocking surprise... a pair of hands dangling from the other side of the window sill! Those of a grown man, hanging on for dear life. Infuriated at the sight of the man who's sleeping with his wife, Joe takes the bedside lamp and starts bashing the guy's fingers until he falls eight stories onto the sidewalk. Only he's still alive, writhing and broken. So Joe hauls the refrigerator from the kitchen out the window, sending it down onto the poor sucker, killing him instantly. Now the hysteria of the moment induces a fatal heart attack and Joe himself, dies. So now, as he's up at the pearly gates, St. Peter is telling all the incoming souls that in order to gain access into heaven, they need to provide a solid account of how they died. After hearing Joe's story, St. Peter allows him in. The next man in line says that he was tanning in the sun, drunk, on the roof of his apartment building when he fell off, only to catch hold of a window sill that could have saved his life, until a crazed bastard beat his fingers and threw a refrigerator onto him. St. peter tells him that he's a shoe-in. And when he asks the next guy in line how he ended up deceased, the guy replies, "...So I'm naked in a refrigerator, right?"
I just came back from a holiday back to the UK to visit friends and family (am an expat).
While we were there we went to a nice community festival, with some great beers. An American friend of a friend proudly proclaimed that he’d bought a pint of red stout.
Looking up at the board, and seeing the name of the beer, my eyes lit up: a golden opportunity had just presented itself.
‘Nah mate, that’s not red stout, it’s called Red Stoat. You do know what a stoat is, right?
[confusion]
‘Well, it’s a little rodent, a bit like a weasel. You know how you can tell the difference between a stoat and a weasel?’
‘Er..’
‘Well’, I says, ‘a weasel is weasily identifiable, and a stoat is stoatally different.’
Cue a puzzled look on the guys face, and a moment’s silence, broken by me and my friend pissing ourselves laughing, not at the joke of course, but at his reaction.
So this was all very well and good, just another in the litany of bad jokes that floats in my wake, and I thought the story ended there.
Karma, however, had other plans…
A few days later, we’re up in the Lake District, walking back to the hotel after a pub dinner. As we’re walking down the road, we see a small carnivorous rodent dragging the recently deceased body of a rabbit back to its home. It was either a stoat, or a weasel, but you know what? I honestly had no way to tell which…
“No, go right ahead.” the woman replies.
The man stands, clears his throat, says “plethora”, and sits back down.
“Thanks”, the woman says, “that means a lot.”
She says "Go ahead".
He says "Plethora".
She thinks for a second, looks down and replies "Thank you. That means a lot".
I said, plethora. The deceased’s family said, thanks, that means a lot.
.. and he's wearing an expensive, expertly tailored black suit. The mortician asks the deceased's wife how she would like the body dressed, pointing out that the man does look good in the black suit he is already wearing. The widow, however, says that she always thought her husband looked his best in blue, and that she wants him in a blue suit. She gives the mortician a blank check and says, 'I don't care what it costs, but please have my husband in a blue suit for the viewing.' The woman returns the next day and to her delight, she finds her husband dressed in a gorgeous blue suit with a subtle chalk stripe; the suit fits him perfectly. She says to the mortician, 'Whatever this cost, I'm very satisfied.. You did an excellent job and I'm very grateful. How much did you spend?' To her astonishment, the mortician presents her with the blank check, 'There's no charge.' 'No, really, I must compensate you for the cost of that exquisite blue suit,' she says. 'Honestly, ma'am,' the mortician says, 'it cost nothing. You see, a deceased gentleman of about your husband's size was brought in shortly after you left yesterday, and he was wearing an attractive blue suit. I asked his wife if she minded him going to his grave wearing a black suit instead, and she said it made no difference as long as he looked nice.' 'So I just switched the heads.'
