Get On Your Boots Puns

She got a new heavy-gauge wok that she had her eye on for a while. I asked her if she remembered to get the special footwear for it.

She looked puzzled for a moment. Then she sighed and said, "Okay, lay it on me. Tell me your dad joke."

I said, "I don't know what you mean by that, but it is my understanding that they have boots that are made for wokking."

The sergeant hands him a stick and gestures to the training field.

"You'll have to use this, soldier. If you need to shoot someone, just aim your stick at them and shout 'Bangity bang-bang'. If someone gets too close to you, poke them in the gut with it as though it was a bayonette and shout 'Stabbity stab-stab'. Now get moving."

The soldier thinks this is pretty ridiculous, but to his surprise, when he aims his stick at a fellow trainee across the field and shouts "Bangity bang-bang!" the other soldier goes down in a theatrical display. Then, another trainee tries to run past him, so he pokes the guy in the ribs and shouts "Stabbity stab-stab!" and he too goes down, pretending to be dead.

So, the soldier starts running through the mock-battlefield, shouting "Bangity bang-bang" and occasionally "Stabbity-stab-stab", until eventually he realizes he's the last man standing.

He's feeling pretty proud of himself until another soldier rounds a corner and starts walking toward him. Slowly. Stiffly. Menacingly.

The soldier takes aim with his stick and shouts, "Bangity-bang-bang!"

But the other soldier doesn't go down this time. He keeps approaching, arms stiff at his sides, boots stomping aggressively into the ground.

The soldier begins to sweat. He clears his throat, adjusts grip on his stick and hollers, "Bangity bang-bang!"

But nothing happens. The other soldier keeps marching toward him.

Now the soldier panics. He pretends to reload his stick and desperately cries out, "Bangity bang-bang! Bangity bang-bang! Stabbity stab-stab!"

But to his dismay, nothing works.

Finally, the other soldier reaches him, kicks him in the shin and knocks him onto the ground.

He stands over the fallen soldier and says:

"Tankity tank-tank."

His best friend, Roy, was known around town for having an adventurous streak that a small town just couldn't satisfy. Roy yearned to travel the world, to rub shoulders with the well-to-do, and to squeeze every drop of excitement he could out of life. While most young folk in town, my grandpa included, were resigned to their lot, Roy was driven by his dream. He worked incredibly hard, taking every hired-hand and handy-man job he could find. He would walk five miles each way to clean a gutter if there was a nickel to be made. His hometown was always spotless, because Roy would pick up every glass bottle he saw to get the deposit back, and every can he found would get turned in for recycling.

The years stretched on. Grandpa settled down with his high school sweetheart in a one-room cottage and had my dad, and not much else. Roy kept hurrying from one job to the next, never spending a dime on a date. Everyone would just roll their eyes and quietly gossip about how poor Roy's obsession was robbing him of a real life.

One day, Roy showed up at Grandpa's house, all decked out in a brand new khaki safari kit, complete with helmet, binoculars, and elephant gun, and announced that he had finally saved up enough for passage to Africa to go big game hunting. He was especially proud of the fine leather boots he was sporting. "Indestructable" he called them, totally impenetrable to water, wind, and snow. No trench-foot for him while he tracked rhinos on the savannah!

Grandpa congratulated Roy on his achievement and wished him bon voyage. Over the next three months, the town felt Roy's absence. Litter lay where it fell, gutters overflowed in heavy rain, small-time farmers rose that bit earlier and bedded that bit later to cover the work Roy used to help with. Of course, the gossipers just turned their chat from how Roy needed a dose of reality to how thoughtless it was of him to just up and leave. Most folks were convinced Roy was gone for good. After all, how could he come back from such a high-falutin' adventure to his tiny, no-account hometown?

But return Roy did, and everyone crowded around at the bar to hear his account of his safari. To their surprise, Roy told them that, for all the time he had been away, he only bagged one trophy that was currently on a slow boat back. It turned out, once Roy got a close-up look at the elephants, rhinos, giraffes, gazelles, and all the fine animals of the African savannah, he lost all heart for hunting. He just couldn't imagi

How does every Russian joke start? By looking over your shoulder.

Whats the difference between a smart Russian and a unicorn?  Nothing, they’re both fictional characters

What’s meant by an exchange opinions in the Communist party of the Soviet Union?  It’s when I come to a party meeting with my own opinion, and I leave with the party’s.

What do you call a Russian with Tourette’s Syndrome?  Yukanol Fukov.

What is 150 yards long and eats potatoes?  A Moscow queue waiting to buy meat.

What occupies the last 6 pages of the Lada User’s Manual?  The bus and train timetables.

What is Communism?  The Poles say it’s the longest and most painful of the roads to capitalism.

What do you call a gassy russian? Vladimir Tootin

What is the fastest country in the world? A: Russia

What do you call a Lada on a hill?  A bloody miracle.

What did Wendi Murdoch say to Vladimir Putin?  Put-it-in!

What did the Russian people light their houses with before they started using candles?  Electricity.

Did you hear about the winner of the Russian beauty contest? Me neither.

When was the first Russian election held?  The time that God set Eve in front of Adam and said, “Go ahead, choose your wife.”

Russia really Putin a lot of work for the Winter Olympics

I hate Russian dolls. They’re so full of themselves.

America: Hey Ivan.. Russia: da.. America: what do you call a gassy Russian.. Russia: hoe don’t-.. America: Vladimir Tootin.. Russia: !   America: !!.. Russia: fuck you.

Me: Netflix and chill more like NYET-flix and chill.. Closetcellist: in a russian accent NO FILMS. ONLY CHILL.

So you want to tell me… Hilbert was Russian to the loud noise?

This is Armenian Radio; our listeners asked us: “What is the difference between Russian and English fairy tales?” We’re answering: “The English fairy tale start with ‘Once upon a time…’, and ours with ‘It will be soon…

This is Armenian Radio; our listeners asked us: “Why some people say that Hungarians love the Russians and hate the Americans?” We’re answering: “Because Russians helped Hungarians to get rid of one totalitarian rule, but Americans don’t help to get rid of the other.”

This is Armenian Radio; our listeners asked us: “Why Lenin wore regular shoes, but Stalin wore boots?” We’re answering: “At Lenin’s time, Ru

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

Oh boy do I have a joke for you kids! Its called the cheerio joke.

So there is this land called cheerio land and in cheerio land there are 7 classes of cheerio, 0-5 and the frosted cheerios. Now there is this level 0 cheerio. Hes homeless, living out on the street, probaly an alchoholic. But he falls in love with a frosted cheerio princess. So one day he sneaks into the royal gala and goes up to the princess and asks her "will you marry me?" Now she says "I like your style, youre a good looking guy, a bit scruffy but I like you. Tell you what I will marry you if you can become a frosted cheerio" So our guy goes back with a determination and gets a job and starts to pay off his debts. Now by having a job and his debts paid he becomes a level 1 cheerio. So he works, and he works, and he works, and he WORKS and he finally becomes a level 2 cheerio. Now he goes back to the princess and askes her again, "will you marry me?" she says "no honey you really do have to become a frosted cheerio first." So he goes back and he works and works, hes a fryboy at McGrubers or something, I dont care. So he works and he works and he gets promoted at the restraunt and is making more money. And he works and he works and he works and by having that income raise he finally becomes a level 3 cheerio. He feels sucessful for the first time in his life but he is starting to fall back on his old ways. One day he goes to the casino and he loses and he loses and he loses and he gambled all his money away and he gets fired to boot because gambling is against company policy. So he is back down to a level 1 cheerio. He gets a job on a production line at a nearby factory and determines himself not to fall back ever again. So he works and he works and he works and he works and he WORKS, level 2, level 3, and he is doing great again. He is promoted to Floor manager of the factory and he is doing great and becomes a level 4 cheerio. But then one day a rival company sabotages their operation by putting poison in their toothpaste or whatever the hell they were making. They have to pay out damages and PR and the like and they declare bankruptcy. He is knocked back down to level 2 for the lack in income. But he is hired almost straight away by a branch of a huge conglomerate because they recognized how hard of a worker he is. So he works, level 3, works, level 4, and he works and works and WORKS. So he is promoted t

I have a teenaged son who just simply doesn't get dad jokes. At all. Today he was in his bedroom with his door mostly closed, but open just a crack, and he was playing some game on his computer and Skyping with a friend. He gave me a great opportunity as I walked by his door so I lobbed an easy one at him.

Him (excitedly yelling) : "I have silent boots on!"

Me: "Sounds to me like you're wearing loud boots"

Him: "No. They're silent"

*sigh*

A boy is resting on the trail back to camp as his dad waits for him and as I am walking by this happens...

Dad: "So when we get back to camp remind me to spray bug spray around your boots."

Son: "Why?"

Dad: "So that the ants wont climb up your pants and bite your candy ass."

Last week my wife fractured her tibia while we were on vacation. She is now in a boot up to her knee and confined to a wheelchair for a couple weeks as she can't put any weight on it.

Yesterday, we were having lunch at a fast food restaurant and she asked me to get her some ketchup. I looked right at her and said, "Why? Is your leg broken?"