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Fun Hump Day Jokes

Turdle

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Mujibar was trying to get a job in India .

The Personnel Manager said, 'Mujibar,
You have passed all the tests, except one.
It is a simple test of your English language skills
Unless you pass it ,you cannot qualify for this job.'

Mujibar said, 'I am ready.'

The manager said,
You must make a sentence using the words
Yellow, Pink,and Green .'

Mujibar thought for a few minutes and said,
'Mister manager, I am ready.'

The manager said, 'Go ahead.'

Mujibar said,
'The telephone goes green, green,
And I pink it up, and say,
Yellow, this is Mujibar.'

Mujibar now works at a call center.

No doubt you have spoken to him.
 



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Rick

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'93 XL Pumpkin Edition
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FROADER

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I hope this one isn't in here.

septic.jpg


As a guitarist, I play many gigs. Recently I was asked by a funeral director to play at a graveside service for a homeless man. He had no family or friends, so the service was to be at a pauper’s cemetery in the back country. As I was not familiar with the backwoods, I got lost.

I finally arrived an hour late and saw the funeral guy had evidently gone and the hearse was nowhere in sight. There were only the diggers and crew left and they were eating lunch.

I felt badly and apologized to the men for being late. I went to the side of the grave and looked down and the vault lid was already in place. I didn’t know what else to do, so I started to play.

The workers put down their lunches and began to gather around. I played out my heart and soul for this man with no family and friends. I played like I’ve never played before for this homeless man.

And as I played ‘Amazing Grace,’ the workers began to weep. They wept, I wept, we all wept together. When I finished I packed up my guitar and started for my car. Though my head hung low, my heart was full.

As I opened the door to my car, I heard one of the workers say, “I never seen nothin’ like that before and I’ve been putting in septic tanks for twenty years.”

Apparently, I’m still lost…
 






blueka

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This is a story about a couple who had been happily married for years, the only friction in their marriage was the husband’s habit of farting loudly every morning when he awoke the noise would wake his wife and the smell would make her eyes water and make her gasp for air. Every morning she would plead with him to stop ripping them off because it was making her sick. He told her he couldn't stop it and that it was perfectly natural. She told him to see a doctor, she was concerned that one day he would blow his guts out. The years went by and he continued to rip them out. Then one Christmas day morning, as she was preparing the turkey for dinner and he was upstairs sound asleep, she looked at the innards, neck, gizzard, liver and all the spare parts, and a malicious thought came to her. She took the bowl and went upstairs where her husband was sound asleep and, gently pulling the bed covers back, she pulled back the elastic waistband of his underpants and emptied the bowl of turkey guts into his shorts. Sometime later she heard her husband waken with his usual trumpeting which was followed by a blood curdling scream and the sound of frantic footsteps as he ran into the bath room. The wife could hardly control herself as she rolled on the floor laughing, tears in her eyes! After years of torture she reckoned she had got him back pretty good. About twenty minutes later, her husband came downstairs in his blood stained underpants with a look of horror on his face. She bit her lip as she asked him what was the matter. He said, “Honey you were right… all these years you have warned me and I didn't listen to you.” “What do you mean?” asked his wife. “Well, you always told me that one day I would end up farting my guts out, and today it finally happened, but by the grace of god, some Vaseline and two fingers. I think I got most of them back in…….............…..”

Si
 






BigRondo

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:D:thumbsup:
 






Anime

EF YEAH!!
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In 1994, the New Mexico State Senate actually resolved by a majority vote, to finance a "Study to Regulate the Hunting and Harvesting of Attorneys".

The resolution, intended as a lawyer joke, died on the order paper but read as follows:

WHEREAS, IT IS NECESSARY FOR THE PUBLIC PEACE, HEALTH, WEALTH AND WELFARE THAT A STUDY BE CONDUCTED TO PROTECT A DYING BREED: HONEST ATTORNEYS;

NOW THEREFORE, BE IT RESOLVED BY THE LEGISLATURE OF THE STATE OF NEW MEXICO THAT IT RESPECTFULLY REQUESTS THE DEPARTMENT OF GAME AND FISH TO CONDUCT A BRIEF STUDY THAT INCLUDES BUT IS NOT LIMITED TO THE FOLLOWING PROPOSED REGULATIONS FOR THE HUNTING AND HARVESTING OF ATTORNEYS:

A. Any person with a valid state rodent, skunk, snake or pigeon hunting license may harvest attorneys for recreational and sporting, non-commercial purposes;

B. Because of their overpopulation and the damage they cause, attorneys may be hunted year-round, except on April Fools' Day or Halloween, with no yearly total limits;

C. Taking of attorneys with traps or deadfalls is legal. The use of United States currency as bait, however, is prohibited;

D. The willful killing of attorneys with motor vehicles is prohibited, unless such vehicles are ambulances being driven in reverse. If an attorney is accidentally struck by a motor vehicle, the dead attorney should be moved to the roadside within seven working days to prevent further damage to other vehicles. The motor vehicle that struck the attorney should immediately be taken to the nearest car wash and run through twice. The game warden should be notified as to the location of the body, as vultures will not clean up the remains of their own kind;

E. It is unlawful to shout "whiplash," "ambulance" or "free scotch" for the purpose of trapping attorneys;

F. It is unlawful to hunt attorneys within one hundred yards of BMW, Porsche, Cadillac or Mercedes dealerships except on Wednesday afternoons;

G. It is unlawful to hunt attorneys within two hundred yards of courtrooms, law schools, law libraries, state capitols, health clubs or hospitals due to the danger of accidental injury to the public at such locations;

H. If any attorney gains elective office, it is necessary to have a license to hunt, trap or possess same,

I. It is unlawful for a hunter to wear a disguise as a reporter, ambulance driver, accident victim, physician, divorcee, chiropractor, tax accountant or insurance adjuster for the purpose of hunting attorneys; and lastly

J. The bag limits per day are: one yellow-bellied will sucker; two two-faced tortfeasors; three backstabbing divorce litigators; four horn-rimmed cutthroats; five greedy-eyed settlement bleeders; six shovel-mouth trust managers; and seven loud-mouthed plea bargainers.

Be it further resolved that for the unlikely survival of this endangered species, it (is) imperative that this study take place immediately.
 






blueka

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"Boy, I'd give anything to sink this putt," the golfer mumbles to himself.

Just then, a stranger walks up beside him and whispers,

"Would you be willing to give up one-fourth of your sex life?"

Thinking the man is crazy and his answer will be meaningless, the golfer also feels

that maybe this is a good omen, so he says, "Sure," and sinks the putt.

Two holes later, he mumbles to himself again, "Gee, I sure would like to get an eagle on this one."

The same stranger is at his side again and whispers,

"Would it be worth giving up another fourth of your sex life?"

Shrugging, the golfer replies, "Okay." And he makes an eagle.

On the final hole, the golfer needs another eagle to win.

Without waiting for him to say anything, the stranger quickly moves to his side and says,

"Would winning this match be worth giving up the rest of your sex life?"

"Definitely," the golfer replies, and he makes the eagle.

As the golfer is walking to the club house, the stranger walks alongside him and says,

"I haven't really been fair with you because you don't know who I am.

I'm Satan, and from this day forward you will have no sex life."

"Nice to meet you, "the golfer replies, "I'm Father O'Malley."
 






Tbars4

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...:d
 






FR-425

Used to be a road here.
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Deer Hunting.

After staring through the scope for two or three minutes,

I just couldn't pull the trigger!


I threw my riffle in the grass,

got down on my knees and prayed for this blessed creature.. .. ... ..











deer_zps0f3d813f.jpg
 












Turdle

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-




A Man's Age, as Determined by a Trip to Home Depot

You are in the middle of a few projects at your home: putting in a new fence, painting the basement walls, putting in a new garden. You are hot and sweaty, covered in dust, lawn clippings, dirt and paint. You have your old work clothes on. You know the outfit -- shorts with the hole in the crotch, old T-shirt with a stain from who-knows-what, and an old pair of tennis shoes.

Right in the middle of these projects you realize you need to run to Home Depot for supplies. Depending on your age you might do the following:

In your 20s:
Stop what you are doing. Shave, take a shower, blow dry your hair, brush your teeth, floss and put on clean clothes.
Check yourself in the mirror and flex. Add a dab of your favorite cologne because, you never know, you just might meet some hot chick while standing in the checkout line. And yes, you went to school with the pretty girl running the register.

In your 30s:
Stop what you are doing, put on clean shorts and shirt. Change your shoes. You married the hot chick so no need for much else.
Wash your hands and comb your hair. Check yourself in the mirror. Still got it. Add a shot of your favorite cologne to cover the smell. The cute girl running the register is the kid sister to someone you went to school with.

In your 40s:
Stop what you are doing. Put on a sweatshirt that is long enough to cover the hole in the crotch of your shorts.
Put on different shoes and a hat. Wash your hands. Your bottle of Brute is almost empty, so don't waste any of it on a trip to Home Depot. Check yourself in the mirror and do more sucking in than flexing.

The hot young thing running the register is your daughter's age and you feel weird about thinking she's spicy.

In your 50s:
Stop what you are doing. Put on a hat. Wipe the dirt off your hands onto your shirt. Change shoes because you don't want to get dog crap in your new sports car. Check yourself in the mirror and swear not to wear that shirt anymore
because it makes you look fat.

The cutie running the register smiles when she sees you coming and you think you still have it. Then you remember -- the hat you have on is from Bubba's Bait & Beer Bar and it says, 'I Got Worms'.

In your 60s:
Stop what you are doing. No need for a hat any more. Hose the dog crap off your shoes. The mirror was shattered when you were in your 50s. You hope you have underwear on so nothing hangs out the hole in your pants.

The girl running the register may be cute but you don't have your glasses on, so you're not sure.

In your 70s:
Stop what you are doing. Wait to go to Home Depot until the drug store has your prescriptions ready too. Don't even notice the dog crap on your shoes. The young thing at the register stares at you and you realize your balls are hanging out the hole in your crotch.

In your 80s:
Stop what you are doing. Start again. Then stop again. Now you remember you need to go to Home Depot. Go to Wal-Mart instead.
You went to school with the old lady greeter.

You wander around trying to remember what you are looking for. Then you fart out loud and think someone called your name.

In your 90s & beyond:
What's a home deep hoe? Something for my garden?
Where am I? Who am I? Why am I reading this?
Did I send it? Did you? Who farted?
 






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