It's likely that nothing in this file is actually obscene, but I thought it wise to separate out anything that, for example, might be inappropriate for children.
This isn't therefore intended to be X-rated humor; rather, it is humor which may contain slightly more adult (or more accurately, adolescent) themes.
I am responding to your letter denying the deduction for two of the three dependents I claimed on my 1994 Federal Tax return. Thank you. I have questioned whether these are my children or not for years. They are evil and expensive.
It's only fair that since they are minors and not my responsibility that the government (who evidently is taxing me more to care for these waifs) knows something about them and what to expect over the next year. You may apply next year to reassign them to me and reinstate the deduction. This year they are yours!
The oldest, Kristen, is now 17. She is brilliant. Ask her! I suggest you put her to work in your office where she can answer people's questions about their returns. While she has no formal training, it has not seemed to hamper her knowledge of any other subject you can name. Taxes should be a breeze.
Next year she is going to college. I think it's wonderful that you will now be responsible for that little expense. While you mull that over keep in mind that she has a truck. It doesn't run at the moment so you have the immediate decision of appropriating some Department of Defense funds to fix the vehicle or getting up early to drive her to school. Kristen also has a boyfriend.
Oh joy. While she possesses all of the wisdom of the universe, her alleged mother and I have felt it best to occasionally remind her of the virtues of abstinence, and in the face of overwhelming passion, safe sex. This is always uncomfortable and I am quite relieved you will be handling this in the future. May I suggest that you reinstate Joycelyn Elders who had a rather good handle on the problem.
Patrick is 14. I've had my suspicions about this one. His eyes are a little close together for normal people. He may be a tax examiner himself one day if you do not incarcerate him first. In February I was awakened at three in the morning by a police officer who was bringing Pat home. He and his friends were Toilet papering houses. In the future would you like him delivered to the local IRS office or to Ogden, UT? Kids at 14 will do almost anything on a dare. His hair is purple. Permanent dye, temporary dye, what's the big deal? Learn to deal with it. You'll have plenty of time as he is sitting out a few days of school after instigating a food fight. I'll take care of filing your phone number with the vice principal. Oh yes, he and all of his friends have raging hormones. This is the house of testosterone and it will be much more peaceful when he lives in your home. DO NOT leave any of them unsupervised with girls, explosives, inflammables, inflatables, vehicles, or telephones. (I'm sure that you will find telephones a source of umimaginable amusement, and be sure to lock out the 900 and 976 numbers?)
Heather is an alien. she slid through a time warp and appeared quite by magic one year. I'm sure this one is yours. She is 10 going on 21. She came from a bad trip in the sixties. She wears tie-dyed clothes, beads, sandals, and hair that looks like Tiny Tim's. Fortunately you will be raising my taxes to help offset the pinch of her remedial reading courses. Hooked on Phonics is expensive so the schools dropped it. Good news! You can buy it yourself for half the amount of the deduction that you are denying! It's quite obvious that we were terrible parents (ask the other two) so they have helped raise this one to a new level of terror. She cannot speak English.
Most people under twenty understand the curious patois she fashioned out of valley girls/boys in the hood/reggae/yuppie/political double speak. I don't. The school sends her to a speech pathologist who has her roll her Rs. It added a refreshing Mexican/Irish touch to her voice. She wears hats backwards, pants baggy and wants one of her ears pierced four more times. There is a fascination with tattoos that worries me but I am sure that you can handle it. Bring a truck when you come to get her, she sort of "nests" in her room and I think that it would be easier to move the entire thing than find out what it is really made of.
You denied two of the three exemptions so it is only fair you get to pick which two you will take. I prefer that you take the youngest, I still go bankrupt with Kristen's college but then I am free! If you take the two oldest then I still have time for counseling before Heather becomes a teenager. If you take the two girls then I won't feel so bad about putting Patrick in a military academy. Please let me know of your decision as soon as possible as I have already increased the withholding on my W-4 to cover the $395 in additional tax and make a down payment on an airplane.
After five or six children this started to get expensive, so the congregation decided to hold a meeting again to discuss the Rabbi's pay situation. As you can imagine, there was much yelling and bickering. Finally, the Rabbi got up and spoke to the crowd.
"Having children is an act of God," he said.
In the back of the room, a little old man with a full beard stood up and in his
frail voice said, "Point of information - snow and rain are also acts of God,
but when we get too much of it, we wear rubbers."
"Well, Doctor, it was like this. Twenty-five years ago, I was on the road and it got dark and...."
"Never mind that. Tell me how you broke your leg this morning."
" Well, twenty-five years ago, I was on the road and it got dark and I needed a place to stay and there was only this one farmhouse near, so I knocked on the door and the farmer answered and I told him my situation, and he said, "Well, you can stay here but you'll have to share a room with my beautiful daughter," and I said that would be okay, so I went up and crawled into bed and she was already asleep, and that night, right after I'd gone to sleep, she woke me up and asked me if there was anything I wanted. I said no, everything was fine. She said, 'Are you sure?' I said, 'I'm sure,' She said, 'Isn't there anything I can do for you?' I said, 'I reckon not.'"
"What does this have to do with your broken leg?"
"Well, this morning, it dawned on me what she meant by that,
and I fell off the roof!"
One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things at Walmart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown. If you've never been in a X-rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse yourself. I was there an hour saying things like, "What does this do?"! "You're kidding me!" "Who would buy that?" Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section. I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour. Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do things I'd only seen in a book on animal husbandry. I settled for 'Lovable Louise." She was at the bottom of the price scale. To call Louise a "doll" took a huge leap of imagination.
On Christmas Eve, with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life. My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning hours, long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling pantyhose with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home, and giggled for a couple of hours.
The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the dog confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some more. We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner.
My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. "What the hell is that?" she asked. My brother quickly explained, "It's a doll." "Who would play with something like that?" Granny snapped. I had several candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut. "Where are her clothes?" Granny continued. "Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran," Jay said, trying to steer her into the dining room. But Granny was relentless. "Why doesn't she have any teeth?" ;Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying, "Hang on Granny! Hang on!"
My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me and said, " Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?" I told him she was Jay's friend. A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.
The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise that sounded a lot like my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa. The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth to mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over his chair and wet his pants and Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat in the car.
It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember.
Later in my brother's
garage, we conducted a thorough
examination to decided the cause of Louise's
collapse. We discovered that
Louise had suffered from a hot ember to the back of
her right thigh.
Fortunately, & thanks a wonder drug called duct
tape, we restored her to
perfect health. Louise went on to star in several
bachelor party movies. I
think Grandpa still calls her whenever he can get
out of the house.
Pat Glenn - Weightlifting Commentator: "This is Gregoriava from Bulgaria.... I saw her snatch this morning and it was amazing."
Ted Walsh - Horse Racing Commentator: "This is really a lovely horse, I once rode her mother."
Murray Walker: "The lead car is absolutely unique, except for the one behind it which is identical."
Greg Norman: "I owe a lot to my parents, especially my mother and father."
Alan Minter: "Sure there have been injuries and deaths in boxing - but none of them serious."
Terry Venables: "If history repeats itself, I should think we can expect the same thing again"
Ron Atkinson: "He dribbles a lot and the opposition doesn't like it - you can see it all over their faces."
Harry Carpenter - BBC TV Boat Race 1977: "Ah, isn't that nice, the wife of the Cambridge president is kissing the cox of the Oxford crew."
Metro Radio: "Julian Dicks is everywhere. It's like they've got eleven Dicks on the field."
David Coleman at the Montreal Olympics: "There goes Juantorena down the back straight, opening his legs and showing his class."
US TV Commentator: "One of the reasons Arnie [Arnold Palmer] is playing
so well is that, before each tee-shot, his wife takes out his balls and
kisses them... Oh my God, what have I just said!
A student of proctology is in the morgue one day after classes, getting a little practice in before the final exams. He goes over to a table where a body is lying face down. He uncovers the sheet over the body, and to his surprise he finds a cork in the corpses rectum. Figuring that this is fairly unusual, he pulls the cork out, and to his surprise, music begins playing.
"On the road again...just can't wait to get on the road again..."
The student is amazed, and places the cork back in the backside. The music stops. Totally freaked out, the student calls the Medical Examiner over to the corpse. "Look at this, this is really something," the student tells the examiner as he pulls the cork back out again.
"On the road again...just can't wait to get on the road again..."
"So what", the Medical Examiner replies, obviously unimpressed with the students discovery. "But isn't that the most amazing thing you've ever seen?" asked the student.
"Are you kidding?" replied the Examiner, "Any asshole can sing country
They turned around to see a lady, a few bar stools down, turning blue from wolfing down an Armadillo Burger too fast.
The first Texan said to the other, "Think we otta' help?"
"Yep," said the second Texan.
The first Texan got up and walked over to the lady and asked, "Kin yew breathe?"
She shook her head no. "Kin yew speak?" he asked.
She again shook her head no.
With that, he helped her to her feet, lifted up her skirt, and started to lick her on the butt.
She was so shocked, she coughed up the obstruction and began to breathe, with great relief.
The first Texan turned back to his friend and said, "Funny how
that there Hind Lick Maneuver works ever' time!"
The guy says, "I'm from Pennsylvania."
The bartender asks, "What do you do up in Pennsylvania?"
The guy responds, "I'm a taxidermist."
The bartender asks, "A taxidermist...what the hell is a taxidermist?"
The guy says "I mount dead animals."
The bartender smiles and shouts to the whole bar, "It's OK boys, he's
one of us!"
Two delicate flowers of Southern womanhood were conversing on the porch swing of a large white-pillared mansion. The first woman said, "When my first child was born, my husband built this beautiful mansion for me."
The second woman commented, "Well, isn't that nice."
The first woman continued "When my second child was born, my husband bought me that fine Cadillac automobile you see parked in the drive."
Again, the second woman commented, "Well, isn't that nice."
The first woman boasted "Then, when my third child was born, my husband bought me this exquisite diamond bracelet."
Yet again, the second woman commented, "Well, isn't that nice."
The first woman then asked her companion, "What did your husband buy for you when you had your first child?"
The second woman replied "My husband sent me to charm school."
"Charm school!" the first woman cried, "Land sakes, child, what on Earth for?"
The second woman responded, "So that instead of saying 'who gives a
flying fuck,' I learned to say 'Well, isn't that nice'"
So he went out to the front of the casino where there was a cab waiting. He got in and explained his situation to the cabbie. He promised to send the driver money from home, he offered him his credit card numbers, his driver's license number, his address, etc., but to no avail. The cabbie said, "If you don't have fifteen dollars, get the hell out of my cab."
So the businessman was forced to hitch-hike to the airport and arrived too late for his flight. A long series of pleading with the airlines eventually got him onto a plane home.
After a full year of working long and hard to regain his financial success, the businessman returned to Vegas to gamble once more.
This time he won big.
Feeling pretty good about himself, he went out to the front of the casino to get a cab ride back to the airport. Well whom should he see out there, at the end of a long line of cabs, but his old `buddy', the cabbie who had refused to give him ride when he was down on his luck.
The businessman thought for a moment about how he could get his revenge. He got into the first cab in the line.
"How much for a ride to the airport?" he asked.
"Fifteen bucks," came the reply.
"And how much for you to give me oral sex on the way?"
"What? Get the hell out of my cab."
The businessman got into the back of each cab in the long line and asked each driver the same questions, with the same results.
When he got to his old friend at the back of the line, he got in and asked, "How much for a ride to the airport?"
The cabbie replied, "fifteen bucks."
The businessman said ok, and off they went. Then, as they drove slowly
past the long line of cabs, the businessman gave a big smile and a
thumbs up sign to each driver.
To which the astonished woman replies, "I beg your pardon,sir; I must have misunderstood you. What did you say?"
"Listen up, damnit. I said, I want to open a damn checking account right now!"
"I'm very sorry, sir, but we do not tolerate that kind of language in this bank."
So saying, the teller leaves the window and goes over to the bank manager to tell him about her situation. They both return and the manager asks the old geezer, "What seems to be the problem here?"
"There's no friggin' problem here, damnit!!" the man says. "I just won $50 million in the damn lottery and I want to open a damn checking account in this damn bank!"
"I see," says the manager, "And this bitch is giving you a hard time?"
Back in the old days, a man was traveling through Switzerland. Nightfall was rapidly approaching, and the man had nowhere to sleep. He went up to a farmhouse and asked the farmer if he could spend the night.
The farmer told him that it would be all right, and that he could sleep in the barn. The man went into the barn to bed down, and the farmer went back into the house.
Well, as the story goes, the farmer's daughter came down from upstairs and asked her father, "Who was that man going into the barn?"
"That's some fellow traveling through," said the farmer. "He needed a place to stay for the night, so I said that he could sleep in the barn.
The daughter then asked, "Did you offer the man anything to eat"?
"Gee, no, I didn't," the farmer answered.
The daughter said, "Well, I'm going to take him some food."
She went into the kitchen, prepared a plate of food, and then took it out to the barn. The daughter was in the barn for an hour before returning to the house.
When she came back in, her clothes were all disheveled and buttoned up wrong, and she had several strands of straw tangled up in her long blond hair.
She immediately went up the stairs to her bedroom and went to sleep.
A little later, the farmer's wife came down and asked her husband why their daughter went to bed so early. "I don't know," said the farmer. "I told a man that he could sleep in the barn, and our daughter took him some food."
"Oh," replied the wife. "Well, did you offer the man anything to drink?"
"Umm, no, I didn't," said the farmer.
The wife then said, "I'm going to take something out there for him to drink."
The wife went to the cellar, got a bottle of wine, then went out to the barn. She did not return for over an hour, and when she come back into the house, her clothes were also messed up, and she had straw twisted into her blonde hair. She went straight up the stairs and into bed.
The next morning at sunrise, the man in the barn got up and continued on his journey, waving to the farmer as he left the farm.
A few hours later, the daughter woke up and came rushing downstairs. She went right out to the barn, only to find it empty. She ran back into the house.
"Where's the man from the barn?" she eagerly asked her father.
Her father answered, "He left several minutes ago."
"What?" she cried. "He left without saying good-bye? After all we had together? I mean, last night he made such passionate love to me."
"What?" shouted the father. The farmer ran out into the front yard looking for the man, but by now the man was halfway up the side of the mountain.
The farmer screamed up at him, "I'm gonna get you! You had sex with my daughter!"
The man looked back down from the mountainside, cupped his hands next to his mouth, and yelled out "ILAIDTHEOLADEETOO!"
And that's how Yodeling began.
A first grade teacher had a small number of children gathered around a table for a reading group. After the story was read she gave the children a work sheet to do. While they were working she heard a little girl say very softly "damn!"
The teacher leaned over and said quietly, "We don't say that in school."
The little girl looked at the teacher, her eyes got very big and
she said, "Not even when things are all fucked up?"
She finally asked him, "Well what should we do about this?"
The Father looked at her and said, "Well. I don't think you should spank him."
It was the first day of school in Dallas and a new student named Suzuki, the son of a Japanese businessman, entered the fourth grade. The teacher said, "Let's begin by reviewing some American history. Who said "Give me Liberty, or give me Death?" She saw a sea of blank faces, except for Suzuki, who had his hand up. "Patrick Henry, 1775." He said.
"Very good! Who said 'Government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth'"? Again, no response except from Suzuki: "Abraham Lincoln, 1863.", said Suzuki The teacher snapped at the class, "Class, you should be ashamed. Suzuki, who is new to our country, knows more about its history than you do."
She heard a loud whisper: "Fuck the Japs." "Who said that?" She demanded. Suzuki put his hand up. "Lee Iacocca, 1982."
At that point, a student in the back said, "I'm gonna puke." The teacher glares and asks "All right! Now, who said that?" Again, Suzuki says, "George Bush to the Japanese Prime Minister, 1991."
Now furious, another student yells, "Oh yeah? Suck this!" Suzuki jumps out of his chair waving his hand and shouts to the teacher, "Bill Clinton, to Monica Lewinsky, 1997!"
Now with almost a mob hysteria someone said, "You little shit. If you say anything else, I'll kill you." Suzuki frantically yells at the top of his voice, "Gary Condit to Chandra Levy 2001."
The teacher fainted. And as the class gathered around the
teacher on the floor, someone said, "Oh shit, we're screwed"
and Suzuki said, "The Taliban! 2001"
Finally, towards the end of the lesson, the teacher asks for examples of sex education from the class.
One little boy raises his hand, "I saw a bird in her nest with some eggs." "Very good, William," cooed the teacher.
"My momma had a baby," said little Esther. "Oh, that's nice," replied the teacher.
Finally Little Johnny raises his hand. With much fear and trepidation, the teacher calls on him.
"I was watchin' TV yesterday, and I saw the Lone Ranger. He was surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of indians. And they all attacked at one time. And he killed every one of them with his two guns."
The teacher was relieved but puzzled, "And what does that have to do with sex education, Johnny?"
"It'll teach those indians not to f**k with the Lone
The president was of course curious as to how she came by all this cash, so he asked her, "Ma'am, where did you get this money?" The old lady replied, "I make bets."
The president smiled, then asked, "Bets? What kind of bets?" The old woman said, "Well, for example, I'll bet you $25,000 that your balls are square." "Ha!" laughed the president, "That's a stupid bet. You can never win that kind of bet!" The old lady challenged, "So, would you like to take my bet?"
"Sure," said the president, "I'll bet $25,000 that my balls are not square!"
The old lady said, "Okay, but since there is a lot of money involved, may I bring my lawyer with me tomorrow at 10:00 am as a witness?"
"Sure!" replied the confident president. That night, he was very nervous about the bet and often checked his balls in the mirror.
The next morning, at precisely 10:00 am, the little old lady appeared with her lawyer at the president's office. She introduced the lawyer to the president and repeated the bet: "$25,000 says the president's balls are square!" The president agreed with the bet again and the old lady asked him to drop his pants so they could all see. The president complied.
The little old lady peered closely at his balls and then asked if she could feel them. "Well, Okay," said the president, "$25,000 is a lot of money, so I guess you should be absolutely sure."
Just then, he noticed that the lawyer was quietly banging his head against the wall. The president said, "What wrong with your lawyer?"
She replied, "Nothing, except I bet him $100,000 that at 10:00 am today, I'd
have the Bank president's balls in my hand!"
"Well," said the guy, "you see, I'm a chiropractor and I could see that you were tense, so I had to massage your back. Sometimes I just can't help practicing my art!"
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" the guy replied. "I work for the
IRS. Do you see me screwing the guy in front of me?"
The young fellow then asked his grandfather, "Well how about you and Grandma now?" His grandfather replied, "Oh, we just have oral sex now."
"What's oral sex?" the young fellow asked. "Well,"
Grandpa said, "She goes to bed in her bedroom, and I go to bed
in my bedroom. She yells, 'F**k You,' and I holler back, 'F**k You
"Yeah," the man answered, "I'm supposed to come dressed as my love life."
"But you look like Abe Lincoln." protested the barkeep.
"That's right. My last four scores were seven years ago."
"Please allow me to help, I'm a physiotherapist and I know I could relieve your pain if you'd just allow me!", she told him earnestly.
"Ummph, oooh, nnooo, I'll be alright...I'll be fine in a few minutes", he replied as he remained in the fetal position still clasping his hands together at his crotch.
The woman takes it upon herself to begin to "ease his pain". She began to massage his groin. After a few moments she asked, "Does that feel better?"
The man looked up at her and replied, "Yes, that feels pretty good...
but my thumb still hurts like hell!
As he slept, two young lasses walked down the road and heard the Scotsman - snoring loudly. They saw him, and one said, "I've always wondered what a Scotsman wears under his kilt."
She boldly walked over to the sleeping man, raised his kilt, and saw what nature had provided him at his birth.
Her friend said, "Well, he has solved a great mystery for us, now! He must be rewarded!" So, she took a blue ribbon from her hair, and gently tied it -around what nature had provided the Scotsman, and the two walked away.
Some time later, the Scotsman was awakened by the call of nature, and walked around to the other side of the tree to relieve himself. He raised his kilt...and saw where the blue ribbon was tied. After several moments of bewilderment, the Scotsman said...
"I donna know where y'been lad...but it's nice ta'know y'won first prize!"
Wellhung: Hello, Sweetheart. What do you look like?
Sweetheart: I am wearing a red silk blouse, a miniskirt and high heels. I work out every day; I'm toned and perfect. My measurements are 36-24-36. What do you look like?
Wellhung: I'm 6'3" and about 250 pounds. I wear glasses and I have on a pair of blue sweat pants I just bought from Walmart. I'm also wearing a T-shirt with a few spots of barbecue sauce on it from dinner... it smells funny.
Sweetheart: I want you. Would you like to screw me?
Sweetheart: We're in my bedroom. There's soft music playing on the stereo and candles on my dresser and night table. I'm looking up into your eyes, smiling. My hand works its way down to your crotch and begins to fondle your huge, swelling bulge.
Wellhung: I'm gulping, I'm beginning to sweat.
Sweetheart: I'm pulling up your shirt and kissing your chest.
Wellhung: Now I'm unbuttoning your blouse. My hands are trembling.
Sweetheart: I'm moaning softly.
Wellhung: I'm taking hold of your blouse and sliding it off slowly.
Sweetheart: I'm throwing my head back in pleasure. The cool silk slides off my warm skin. I'm rubbing your bulge faster, pulling and rubbing.
Wellhung: My hand suddenly jerks spastically and accidentally rips a hole in your blouse. I'm sorry.
Sweetheart: That's OK, it wasn't really too expensive.
Wellhung: I'll pay for it.
Sweetheart: Don't worry about it. I'm wearing a lacy black bra. My soft breasts are rising and falling, as I breathe harder and harder.
Wellhung: I'm fumbling with the clasp on your bra. I think it's stuck. Do you have any scissors?
Sweetheart: I take your hand and kiss it softly. I'm reaching back, undoing the clasp. The bra slides off my body. The air caresses my breasts. My nipples are erect for you.
Wellhung: How did you do that? I'm picking up the bra and inspecting the clasp.
Sweetheart: I'm arching my back. Oh baby. I just want to feel your tongue all over me.
Wellhung: I'm dropping the bra. Now I'm licking your, you know, breasts. They're neat!
Sweetheart: I'm running my fingers through your hair. Now I'm nibbling your ear.
Wellhung: I suddenly sneeze. Your breasts are covered with spit and phlegm.
Wellhung: I'm so sorry. Really.
Sweetheart: I'm wiping your phlegm off my breasts with the remains of my blouse.
Wellhung: I'm taking the sopping wet blouse from you. I drop it with a plop.
Sweetheart: OK. I'm pulling your sweat pants down and rubbing your hard tool.
Wellhung: I'm screaming like a woman. Your hands are cold! Yeeee!
Sweetheart: I'm pulling up my miniskirt. Take off my panties.
Wellhung: I'm pulling off your panties. My tongue is going all over... umm... wait a minute.
Sweetheart: What's the matter?
Wellhung: I've got a pubic hair caught in my throat. I'm choking.
Sweetheart: Are you OK?
Wellhung: I'm having a coughing fit. I'm turning all red.
Sweetheart: Can I help?
Wellhung: I'm running to the kitchen, choking wildly. I'm fumbling through the cabinets, looking for a cup. Where do you keep your cups?
Sweetheart: In the cabinet to the right of the sink.
Wellhung: I'm drinking a cup of water. There, that's better.
Sweetheart: Come back to me, lover.
Wellhung: I'm washing the cup now.
Sweetheart: I'm on the bed arching for you.
Wellhung: I'm drying the cup. Now I'm putting it back in the cabinet. And now I'm walking back to the bedroom. Wait, it's dark, I'm lost. Where's the bedroom?
Sweetheart: Last door on the left at the end of the hall.
Wellhung: I found it.
Sweetheart: I'm tuggin' off your pants. I'm moaning. I want you so badly..
Wellhung: Me too.
Sweetheart: Your pants are off. I kiss you passionately - our naked bodies pressing each other.
Wellhung: Your face is pushing my glasses into my face. It hurts.
Sweetheart: Why don't you take off your glasses?
Wellhung: OK, but I can't see very well without them. I place the glasses on the night table.
Sweetheart: I'm bending over the bed. Give it to me, baby!
Wellhung: I have to pee. I'm fumbling my way blindly across the room and toward the bathroom.
Sweetheart: Hurry back, lover.
Wellhung: I find the bathroom and it's dark. I'm feeling around for the toilet. I lift the lid.
Sweetheart: I'm waiting eagerly for your return.
Wellhung: I'm done going. I'm feeling around for the flush handle, but I can't find it. Uh-oh!
Sweetheart: What's the matter now?
Wellhung: I've realized that I've peed into your laundry hamper. Sorry again. I'm walking back to the bedroom now, blindly feeling my way.
Sweetheart: Mmm, yes. Come on.
Wellhung: OK, now I'm going to put my... you know... thing... in....
Sweetheart: Yes! Do it, baby! Do it!
Wellhung: I'm touching your smooth butt. It feels so nice. I kiss your neck. Umm, I'm having a little trouble here.
Sweetheart: I'm moving my bottom back and forth, moaning. I can't stand it another second! Now!
Wellhung: I'm flaccid.
Wellhung: I'm limp. I can't sustain an erection.
Sweetheart: I'm standing up and turning around, an incredulous look on my face.
Wellhung: I'm shrugging with a sad look on my face, all floppy. I'm going to get my glasses and see what's wrong.
Sweetheart: No, never mind. I'm getting dressed. I'm putting on my underwear. Now I'm putting on my wet nasty blouse.
Wellhung: No wait! Now I'm squinting, trying to find the night table. I'm feeling along the dresser, knocking over cans of hair spray, picture frames and your candles.
Sweetheart: I'm buttoning my blouse. Now I'm putting on my shoes.
Wellhung: I've found my glasses. I'm putting them on. My God! One of our candles fell on the curtain. The curtain is on fire! I'm pointing at it, a shocked look on my face.
Sweetheart: Go to hell. I'm logging off, you loser!
Wellhung: Now the carpet is on fire! Oh noooo!
Sweetheart: <logged off>
Moving closer, he slipped his arm around her shoulder and added, "I'll keep you happy, and you'll keep me happy."
The girl nodded 'yes.' After all, what did she have to lose? That night, the sailor brought her aboard and hid her in a life-boat. From then on, every night he brought her three sandwiches and a piece of fruit, and they made passionate love until dawn.
Three weeks later, during a routine search, she was discovered by the captain.
"What are you doing here?" the Captain asked. "I have an arrangement with one of the sailors," she explained. "He's taking me to Europe, and he's screwing me."
"He sure is, lady," said the Captain. "This is the Staten Island Ferry."
The land without vowels interviews the woman who has served thousands.
I AM A TIP-TOP STARLET
TIME Magazine May 20, 1996 Volume 147, No. 21
In Which Something Is Lost, But Much Is Gained, In The Translation
[When the huge Evita production company blew into Budapest last month to rent its ancient architecture, Madonna, the film's star, was much too busy staying in character to meet with the local press. Finally, on the eve of her departure, good manners prevailed, and the pop diva submitted to an interview with the Budapest newspaper Blikk. The questions were posed in Hungarian, then translated into English for Madonna, whose replies were then translated back into Hungarian for the paper's exclusive. Shortly thereafter, at the request of USA Today, Madonna's comments were then retranslated from Hungarian back into English for the benefit of that paper's readers. To say that something was lost in the process is to be wildly ungrateful for all that was gained.]
Blikk: Madonna, Budapest says hello with arms that are spread-eagled. Did you have a visit here that was agreeable? Are you in good odor? You are the biggest fan of our young people who hear your musical productions and like to move their bodies in response.
Madonna: Thank you for saying these compliments [holds up hands]. Please stop with taking sensationalist photographs until I have removed my garments for all to see [laughs]. This is a joke I have made.
Blikk: Madonna, let's cut toward the hunt: Are you a bold hussy-woman that feasts on men who are tops?
Madonna: Yes, yes, this is certainly something that brings to the surface my longings. In America it is not considered to be mentally ill when a woman advances on her prey in a discotheque setting with hardy cocktails present. And there is a more normal attitude toward leather play-toys that also makes my day.
Blikk: Is this how you met Carlos, your love-servant who is reputed? Did you know he was heaven-sent right off the stick? Or were you dating many other people in your bed at the same time?
Madonna: No, he was the only one I was dating in my bed then, so it is a scientific fact that the baby was made in my womb using him. But as regards these questions, enough! I am a woman and not a test-mouse! Carlos is an everyday person who is in the orbit of a star who is being muscle-trained by him, not a sex machine.
Blikk: May we talk about your other "baby," your movie, then? Please do not be denying that the similarities between you and the real Evita are grounded in basis. Power, money, tasty food, Grammys -- all these elements are afoot.
Madonna: What is up in the air with you? Evita never was winning a Grammy!
Blikk: Perhaps not. But as to your film, in trying to bring your reputation along a rocky road, can you make people forget the bad explosions of Who's That Girl? and Shanghai Surprise?
Madonna: I am a tip-top starlet. That is my job that I am paid to do.
Blikk: O.K., here's a question from left space: What was your book Slut about?
Madonna: It was called Sex, my book.
Blikk: Not in Hungary. Here it was called Slut. How did it come to publish? Were you lovemaking with a man-about-town printer? Do you prefer making suggestive literature to fast-selling CDs?
Madonna: These are different facets to my career highway. I am preferring only to become respected all over the map as a 100% artist.
Blikk: There is much interest in you from this geographic region, so I must ask this final questions: How many Hungarian men have you dated in bed? Are they No. 1? How are they comparing to Argentine men, who are famous for being tip-top as well?
Madonna: Well, to avoid aggravating global tension, I would say it's a tie [laughs]. No, no, I am serious now. See here, I am working like a canine all the way around the clock! I have been too busy even to try the goulash that makes your country one for the record books.
Blikk: Thank you for your candid chitchat.
Madonna: No problem, friend who is a girl.
The mother realises that she is referring to the prostitute day shift, but hedges - "I expect they are waiting for their friends, or looking at the Roman architecture, dear".
The taxi driver flips back the partition and says:
"Go on, a-mother. Tell her they're prostitutes!".
"Mummy what are 'prostitutes'?"
With a sigh, Mother tells all.
The little girl is very interested:
"But Mummy, don't they sometimes have babies?".
"Well yes dear, I'm afraid they do."
"But Mummy, what happens to the babies?".
"Well dear, that's the interesting thing about it: invariably they
Dear Reyer School,
God bless you for the beautiful radio I won at your recent senior citizen's luncheon. I am 84 years old and live at the county home for the aged. All my people are gone. It's nice to know that someone thinks of me. God bless you for your kindness to an old forgotten lady.
My roommate is 95 and always had her own radio, but would never let me listen to it. The other day her radio fell and broke into a lot of pieces. It was awful. She asked if she could listen to mine, and I said fuck you.
Many people at NASA thought it was a casual remark concerning some rival Soviet Cosmonaut. However upon checking, there was no Gorsky in either the Russian or American space programs.
Over the years, many people have questioned him as to what the "Good luck, Mr. Gorsky" statement meant. On July 5, in Tampa Bay, FL, while answering questions following a speech, a reporter brought up the 26 year old question to Armstrong. He finally responded. It seems that Mr. Gorsky had died and so Armstrong felt he could answer the question.
When he was a kid, Neil was playing baseball with his brother in the backyard. His brother hit a fly ball which landed in front of his neighbors' bedroom window. The neighbors were Mr. and Mrs. Gorksy. As he leaned down to pick up the ball, he heard Mrs. Gorsky shouting at Mr. Gorsky, "Oral sex? Oral sex you want? You'll get oral sex when the kid next door walks on the moon!"