was a mazing
Keeps me level headed.
Lame jokes are in my heart some times they hit some times they miss.
A large Russian company buys a batch of off-road Mercedes trucks. The deal also includes training of drivers to work with the new equipment. One such Mercedes catches up with an old MAZ truck on the road. At one point the MAZ stopped, then a man with a bucket jumped out of it and scooped some water from a puddle on the road and poured it into the fuel tank. Then he gets in the truck, lights it and sets off. The instructor in the Mercedes, who speaks a little Russiаn, asks the driver:
- What's happening?
"It's out of fuel."
"You keep fuel in puddles along the road?"
- No. This is water.
The German was silent for a few minutes and stated:
- The car in front of us is moving with water!
- No! It's moving with diesel!
The instructor decides to make fun of him and is silent until they reach the base. Excited, he goes there and shares with his colleagues what he saw. It turns out that someone else saw the same thing, but he doesn't know Russiаn and couldn't ask. He returns to his trainee and continues to question. If MAZ is running on diesel, why did the driver add water to the fuel tank? The Russiаn explains to him that the pipe that sucks the diesel is located just a few centimetres above the bottom of the fuel tank. At the moment it stops refuelling, there are another ten litters of diesel in the fuel tank. When water is poured, the level rises, then the diesel, which is lighter, rises from the top and the truck can travel many more kilometres. Amazed by this explanation, the German asks:
"Why don't they put the fuel pipe at the bottom of the tank?"
The Russiаn's in shock answers him:
- But what if there is water in the diesel?
Edit: How a MAZ truck looks like - https://youtu.be/roj5Xf55PDU
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 ➡Some of them were pretty strange: only he could understand them and explaining the 'pun' to somebody else would take like half an hour. Anyway-
He said, "So I'll go first?"
I said sure.
I think he took "pun-a-thon" a bit too literally - he took out a marker and drew a point, and then he kept drawing this straight line (he's good at drawing straight lines) while taking how many ever steps back. I for one was concerned, because first off I didn't know how long I'd have to stick around for this, and second of all, I didn't know if I could clean the mess he'd inevitably leave behind.
He kept drawing this line! We stepped out of my living room, then my apartment which was on ground-level, and he kept drawing it. He drew his line all the way through the corridor, up until the entrance to the building, and when I kept asking him if he's done yet, he didn't say a word. I had to keep subtly reassuring security and everyone who was staring at my friend hunched over like that robot from Wall-E.
He stepped out of the building and kept on drawing his line. At this point I was trying to guess what the hell is the outcome. I kept screaming punchlines at him like "is this where you draw the line?", "are you going to punch me after this so this is a punchline?" and shit like that. There were people following us and two were taking videos and it was really fucking uncomfortable.
Right after he was outside the building and the premises, he started to draw this stunning drawing of the building right on the pavement. It was almost magical, as if he had been commissioned to make an ad for my place but for a million bucks. At this point the people who were following us didn't even get pissed off because they were so engrossed in his drawing. I was surprised the marker kept going on.
After about 20 minutes - he was a real quick draw (no pun intended) - he stood up and a crowd of two dozen clapped and cheered for him.
I told him, "Dude that looks fucking amazing, but I thought we were in a pun-a-thon. Why such a long set-up?"
He replied, "Yeah it was pretty drawn out."
(for more drawn-out jokes like this, visit r/feghoot!)
My dad told me this the first time on Halloween night back when I was 9. He tells it to this day to any of my cousins, nephews, or any kids that happen to linger too long at the house when he's giving out candy. It's a long one but I have always enjoyed it.
Back when I was about your age, I went on a Halloween adventure. There was an old abandoned house on our street where a series of grisly axe murders had taken place years before. The house had never sold and was left vacant and was left to fall apart. There was a local legend that if you went into the house on Halloween night, you'd be confronted by the ghost of the murderer himself, still looking for more victims to add to his terrifying story.
My friend Tom and I decided to go through with it one year. Knowing everyone would be too terrified to go into the house, we snuck in easily on Halloween night. The place was falling apart inside, the carpet was wet and moldy and the wallpaper was peeling off everywhere. We headed down carefully to the basement down a set of creaky stairs.
At first we found nothing. Just an empty creepy old house. Suddenly we felt as if we were being watched. I was looking through one of the rooms in the large basement when I suddenly heard Tom shriek. I spun around and turned my flashlight and Tom was being chased by something, no someone. It looked like it was the murderer! A crazed man with an axe!
We turned and tried to run anywhere. We were in the basement but couldn't get up the stairs because we were blocked. We ran into the side room which looked like it might have been the laundry years ago. We locked the door and looked for a way out. The only thing we could find was a small window that opened onto ground level. As I climbed out I heard a pounding on the door. I managed to wriggle my way through the window and turned around to help my friend Tom. Panicking, he managed to get his top half through the window when I noticed the pounding stop.
Tom was stuck! I kept trying to pull him up but I couldn't. I pulled as hard as I could as Tom panicked and thrashed even more. I thought something had him caught, but it was even worse. The murderer had gotten behind him and was holding him back! He was too strong for me to overcome and he was pulling Tom's leg!
Just like I've been pulling yours this whole time.
We're in the middle of moving and i just got my bookshelves all set up. Unfortunately, there isn't enough space in one single room for them all (I've got too many, like addiction level). My wife brings up that the author 'B' section probably has the most books. I'm pretty sure it's 'S' names. Then she unleashes, "That makes sense, because it's just a bunch of b.s." Golf clap.
I work at Chiquitos in the UK, I was seating a gentleman and his daughter and pointed toward a booth which was set to my right and asked
"Is that one all right for you?"
To which he replied "Its on my left actually."
Later, when I was taking the payment I made small talk and said
"So, are you up to anything good today?"
He said "No, might do something bad though."
Told him that I could only aspire to his level of dad-joke, he said it might take some years of practice. I can only hope.
