Heart Rate Puns

I have such a smart watch

She had a change of heart.

A young student female nurse appears and gives him a partial sponge bath.

"Nurse,"' he mumbles from behind the mask, "are my testicles black?"

Embarrassed, the young nurse replies, "I don't know, Sir. I'm only here to wash your upper body and feet."

He struggles to ask again, "Nurse, please check for me. Are my testicles black?"

Concerned that he might elevate his blood pressure and heart rate from worrying about his testicles, she overcomes her embarrassment and pulls back the covers.

She raises his gown, holds his manhood in one hand and his testicles gently in the other.

She looks very closely and says, "There's nothing wrong with them, Sir. They look fine."

The man slowly pulls off his oxygen mask, smiles at her, and says very slowly,

"Thank you very much. That was wonderful. Now listen very, very, closely:

"Are - my - test - results - back?"

The approval rating of dad jokes in my household has fallen farther and harder than Hans off Nakatomi in my household of late. Not to be a big baby, but it's been really disheartening for me.

We all know our dad jokes can get tiring and annoying; that's part of the point. True masters carefully toe the line between just enough and too much, and to great effect. We do it because we genuinely want to bring joy to those around us with almost child-like mirth.

Not be able to share that with my family lately has been disappointing.

But coming to this sub warms my heart. So thank you to all of you here.

I am very grateful. #obligatoryset-up;)

After reading her husband's short and quick reply, the woman happily called her husband and said, "Aww, you didn't have to send me the heart symbol as a reply to my question. How sweet of you!"

Her husband then said, "What heart symbol? I meant to say that I rate you as less than three!"

I grew up in Vermont. Around my town were plenty of dairy farms, inviting the always wonderful manure aroma. An aroma that nearly forced my father to inhale deeply through his nose, saying, "Ah, fresh Vermont air!"

That's an excellent Dad one liner, as are most dad jokes, but he had another great one that I'm getting to.

You see, the hay bails we saw growing up in Vermont were mostly the cube variety. Hay bailing technology at the time created cubes of hay, so that's what dotted the fields they'd graze in.

As we grew older, we starting noticing the now more common round bails of hay. Dad was not pleased.

I asked him what the problem was or, at least, what his problem was with the round bails. The best jokes are set up when you ask for them.

So, he tells me. New farming technology allowed the round bails to be created more efficiently. They used less fuel in the bailers, took less passes on the field to gather the hay. They used less twine, and even though they didn't fill a truck as well as square bails, there was still a net monetary gain from the efficiency gained elsewhere.

However, studies were done on the bails. The cows approached them differently due to the different alignment of surface area. The way the rain hit the bails and rolled off as opposed to soaking in leached nutrients out of the hay. Some cows even mistook the shape of bail for another animal, and approached them so nervously that their heart rates were known to raise significantly; such a rate that a tinge of acidity could be tasted by those in the know in their milk.

What all of this amounted to... is that with the new round bails of hay, the cows just weren't getting a good square meal.

I'm an EMT and I was doing paperwork. My partner walks up to me with the vitals of a patient. BP was done with an automated cuff. Me: What's the blood pressure? Him: 165/95 Me: That's odd, heart rate? Him: 77 Me: Odd, respirations? Him: 16, is that odd too? Me: No, that's even.

I found it hilarious.