After her sixth child, Jane decided that she should have some Cosmetic
surgery "down below" to restore herself to her former youthful glory,
because her bomb doors were dangling a bit too low and looked like a ripped
out fireplace.

Time and childbirth had taken its toll and she reckoned that, with six
children now being the limit, she'd tidy things with a nip here and a tuck
there so it looked more like a piggy bank slot rather than a badly packed
kebab.

Following the operation she awoke from her anaesthetic to find three roses
at the end of the bed.

"Who are these from?" she asked the nurse, "They're very nice but I'm a bit
confused as to why I've received them."

"Well" said the nurse; "The first is from the surgeon - the operation went
so well and you were such a model patient that he wanted to say thanks".

"The second is from your husband - he's delighted the operation was such a
success that he can't wait to get you home. Apparently it'll be the
first time he's touched the sides for years and he's very excited!"

"Brilliant!" said Jane. "And the third?"

"That's from Eric, a patient in the burns unit," said the nurse. "He just
wanted to say thanks for his new ears."

Delftsman3

H/T to Catfish

Posted by: Erin at 06:05 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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I'm a Lotus Elise!

You believe in maximum performance and minimum baggage. You like to travel light and fast, hit the corners hard, and dance like there's no tomorrow.

"Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.

-*- Yeah, I know that these tests are just for fun, but they sure pegged me on this one!

Delftsman3

Posted by: Erin at 07:29 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Doctor: I have some bad news and some very bad news.

Patient: Well, you might as well give me the bad news first.

Doctor: The lab called with your test results. They said you have 24 hours
to live.

Patient: 24 hours! That's terrible! What could be worse? What's the very
bad news?

Doctor: I've been trying to reach you since yesterday.

Posted by: Erin at 02:05 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Why English Officers Wore Red Coats

A long time ago, Britain and France were at war.

During one battle, the French captured an English
colonel. They took him to their headquarters,
and the French general began to question him.

Finally, as an afterthought, the French general
asked,
"Why do you English officers all wear red coats?

Don't you know the red material makes you easier
targets for us to shoot at?"

In his bland English way, the officer informed the
general that the reason English officers wear red
coats is so that if they are shot, the blood won't
show, and the men they are leading won't panic.

And that is why, from that day to this, all French
Army officers wear brown pants.

H/T Catfish

Posted by: Erin at 12:35 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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An Irishman named O'Malley went to his doctor after a long illness. The doctor sighed and looked O'Malley in the eye and said, "I've some bad news for you. You have cancer, and it can't be cured. You'd best put your affairs in order."

O'Malley was shocked but being a solid character, he managed to compose himself and walk from the doctor's office into the waiting room, where his son was waiting.

"Well son, we Irish celebrate when things are good, and we celebrate when things don't go well. In this case, things aren't so well. I have cancer. Let's head to the pub and have a few pints."

After 3 or 4 pints the two were feeling a little less somber..
There were some laughs and some more beers. They were eventually
approached by some of O'Malley's friends, who were curious as to
what the two were celebrating.

O'Malley told them they were drinking to his impending end. He
told his friends, "I have been diagnosed with AIDS."

The friends gave O'Malley their condolences, and they had a
couple more beers. After the friends left, O'Malley's son leaned
over and whispered his confusion.

"Dad, I thought you told me that you were dying of cancer, and
you just told your friends that you were dying of AIDS!"
O'Malley said, "I don't want any of them sleeping with your
Mother after I am gone."


YOU GOTTA LOVE THE IRISH!!

H/T to Jack

Posted by: Erin at 12:25 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I've always thought Foster Brooks was a really funny comic. I just HAD to repost this link I found at GuyK's site. As one of Guy's commenters noted; Mr. Brooks was fortunate to have worked in a period where the ACLU and P.C. groups such as M.A.D.D. weren't so prevalent and eager to sue anyone that found humor in their pet peeve of an issue.

And here's another example:

Posted by: Erin at 06:18 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Posted by: Erin at 08:29 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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It's hard to find jokes without foul words in them these days, but Catfish sent me this one:

Two tall trees, a birch and a beech, are growing in the woods. A small tree
begins to grow between them, and the beech says to the birch, "Is that a son
of a beech or a son of a birch?"

The birch says he cannot tell.

Just then a woodpecker, lands on the sapling.

The birch says, "woodpecker, you are a tree expert. Can you tell

if that is a son of a beech or a son of a birch?"

The woodpecker takes a taste of the small tree. He replies, "It is

neither son of a beech nor son of a birch. "It is however, the best

piece of ash I have ever put my pecker in"

Delftsman3

Posted by: Erin at 06:11 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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