Whole Blood Puns

I've two bulls who just love to fight //
they simply cannot be polite //
Just one needs to breed //
and so I'll proceed //
to castrate the weak one tonight

The procedure is safe, I insist //
if we make the blood flow desist //
to make bleeding halt //
do the "ball somersault" //
and give that whole sack a huge twist

To do this requires no skill //
I'll just need a quite large power-drill //
and a specialized clamp //
to hold on to that champ //
then turn it on fast- what a thrill!

It is clear this device should appeal //
to those who need bulls with less zeal //
I shall name this device //
with a drill and a vise //
the most perfect of names: "Steering Wheel!"

My great uncle died the other night. He lost too much blood and the doctors couldn't find a donor because they didn't know his blood type. However, the whole time, my great uncle was cheering them on saying, "Be Positive!"

Two naturalists spent the bulk of their lives studying bears in the Soviet Union. One was from Czechoslovakia and the other from Poland. When the USSR fell in December 1991 they were both old men, but they were excited about the prospect of finally getting the chance to study grizzlies in America. That following Spring they made arrangements to travel to Yellowstone to finally see the grizzlies.

When they arrived and informed the park rangers of their plan the rangers were alarmed, telling the scientists, "You can't go now. It's mating season, and the bears are very aggressive." But the former Soviets were insistent. "Please," they said, "We must go. We've waited our whole lives. We may never get another chance." Realizing the men couldn't be dissuaded, the rangers gave them a radio with instructions to report in with their location every day. The scientists set out, and for several days they reported dutifully that all was well.

On the third day, though, they failed to report in. Anxiously, the rangers sent out a search party to the scientists' last known location.

Unfortunately, the rangers discovered a bloody mess when they found the men's camp, and the tracks of two bears, a male and a female, leading off into the woods.

The rangers followed the tracks until suddenly they came upon the female grizzly, her muzzle still crimson with blood. They shot her and conducted an autopsy on the spot, sadly finding the remains of the Polish scientist inside her stomach.

"You know what this means, don't you?" said one ranger to the other. "Yes," the other replied, "The Czech is in the male."

Yesterday, I was running back from the school bus after asking the driver to give me a moment because my disabled son had had an accident and I was about finished cleaning him up. It was raining and muddy and I was in my bare feet, but this is the norm out here.

On the way back I managed to get my big toenail ripped up off the nailbed down to about halfway to the cuticle. Never done that before in 31 years, and oh my, I have to say it was a whole different level of exquisite agony when I finally noticed it. Funny how you never notice things like that until you see all the blood and how it doesn't even hurt until you touch it.

Sparing you the details of tracking in blood for five minutes before I even noticed I'd done it, the husband cringed quite a bit when he got home from work and saw it.

Fast forward to today--my period started and I had one hell of a headache all day long. He gets home from work and asks, "you ok, babe?" Because I'm usually pretty cheerful when he walks in the door, but today I was cranky as fuck.

"Eh, period started. Headache. Glad you're home, I can take a pain pill and you can watch the kids."

"Oh." He looked me up and down slowly and grinned. "So... now you're hurting from head... to toe?"

Motherfucker.

So, my dad could be considered a regular jokester. He had his dad jokes, his dirty jokes, clean but provocative joke, setup jokes, everything. He never missed a chance to turn something into a joke for hinself, even, and perpahs especially, if it only amused himself. I found out at an young age that no situation is too serious for him.

I was around 9 years old and I was in the cub scouts, and it was box car derby season. I was in the dining room, carving away at my block of wood when the blade in my right hand skipped the wood and carved my left thumb. It fucking hurt and bled like a sonofabitch. I immediately starting screaming and my dad raced into the room and found me covered in blood, my left hand now with two thumbs. We get it wrapped and he drives me to the emergency room. By the time we got there the bleeding had stopped and I have stopped crying. As we pull up, my dad looks st me, shakes his head and says "We can't go in there like this, we'll end up waiting forever to see a doctor. You need to cry once we're in there and that'll help" I said ok, and he said as we were walking up, "I'll give you a signal to start crying." How will i know, i asked him snd he just said i'll know. We go inside and walk up to the admittance desk. I'm short, so at the time my head just cleared the desk. My dad tells the nurse that we have a cut, and need to see a doctor right away. The nurse pushes paperwork at him and he tells her again, this time that its a real bad cut. The nurse finally looks at me for the first time and she frowns, because im relatively normal looking, even though im hurting and nervous, waiting for my dads signal. My dad pulls me back a bit and her eyes widen really big when she sees all the dried blood caked on the lower left side of my body. She starts getting excited and says "Ohmygoshohmygosh" over and over and this point im starting to get scared when my Dad, in a serious voice says "Its even worse than it looks! You're going to have to take the whole hand!"

Then I start crying.

So, let's start off with a fact about myself: I'm vegetarian. I've been one my whole life. Now, let's get to the story.

Basically, I was driving down to camp at a Battleship with my dad (for a Boy Scouts trip), and this was during my first 6 months of learning to drive. This was the most intense trip for me (so far), and I was already nervous about driving on the interstate, so I was doing my best to practice proper driver etiquette.

Now, here's where the story gets interesting. I'm cruising down the interstate, going approximately 70 mph in the middle lane, when all of a sudden, I see a deer emerge onto the road from the right. It's running to the left (aka, trying to cross this interstate). The car to the right of me slams on the brakes, so the deer kept running. I slammed on my breaks as hard as I could, BARELY missing the deer. The car to the left of me was unlucky. The deer smashes its head into the left car's headlight and it flips over to the right (over my car). Clearly, it's dead, and as it flipped over my car, a lot of its blood gets onto my windshield.

I'm horrified. I kept driving forward. Trying to make sure I didn't veer off or anything. I look to my dad, and my hands are slightly shaking while I'm continuing this trip. My dad looks over to me, smiles, and says, "Don't worry, my 'deer'. Keep driving."

I looked back at him with the most disgusted face, and he just started giggling. Good god, this was NOT the time for a dad joke, but nevertheless, my dad didn't fail to deliver.

I thought I'd hate him forever after this and people would agree with me, but now this joke gets one of the largest laughs from people at parties. <_<

tl;dr My dad's sense of humor appalls me.