Over 16,533,274 people are on fubar.
What are you waiting for?
Guy walks out of the restroom...Girl says: "Sir your garage door is open... Guy asks: "Did you see my Harley"... Girl says: "No, I saw a mini bike with two flat tires"
The police arrested a guy who claimed his name was Marvin Fuckbreak. They
phoned his place of employ to ensure that was really his name. The
officer said "Do you have a Fuckbreak there?" The person on the other
end said "Hell no, we don't even get a coffee break!"
On the WBAM FM morning show in Chicago, the DJs play a game called "MateMatch". Here are the rules.
The DJs call someone at work and ask if they are married or seriously involved with someone. If the contestant answers "yes", he or she is then asked three random yet highly personal questions. Their partner is then called and asked the same three questions. If he/she gives the same answers to all three questions, they both win the prizes. Simple.
This is what happened on one of these games.
DJ: "Hey! This is Edgar on WBAM. Have you ever heard of MateMatch?"
Contestant laughing: "Yes, I have."
DJ: "Great! Then you know we're giving away a trip to Orlando, Florida if you win. What is your name? First only please."
Contestant: "Brian."
DJ: "Brian, are you married or what?"
Brian: "Yes."
DJ: "Yes? Does that mean you're married or you're what?"
Brian laughing nervously: "Yes, I am married."
DJ: "Thank you. Now, what is your wife's name? First only please."
Brian: "Sarah."
DJ: "Is Sarah at work, Brian?"
Brian: "She is gonna kill me."
DJ: "Stay with me here, Brian! Is she at work?"
Brian laughing: "Yes, she's at work."
DJ: "Ok, first question - when was the last time you had sex?"
Brian: "She is gonna kill me."
DJ: "Brian! Stay with me here!"
Brian: "About eight o'clock this morning."
DJ: "Ah huh boy, Brian."
Brian laughing sheepishly: "Well..."
DJ: "Question two - how long did it last?"
Brian: "About ten minutes."
DJ: "Wow! You really want that trip, huh? No one would ever have said that if a trip wasn't at stake."
Brian: "Yeah, that trip sure would be nice."
DJ: "Ok. Final question. Where did you have sex at eight o'clock this morning?"
Brian laughing hard: "I, ummm, I, well..."
DJ: "This sounds good, Brian. Where was it at?"
Brian: "Not that it was all that great, but her mom is staying with us for a couple of weeks..."
DJ: "Uh huh..."
Brian: "...and the mother-in-law was in the shower at the time."
DJ: "Ah huh boy, Brian."
Brian: "On the kitchen table."
DJ: "Not that great?? That is more adventure than the previous hundred times I've done it. Ok folks, I will put Brian on hold, get this wife's work number and call her up. You listen to this."
Three minutes of commercials follow.
DJ: "Ok audience, let's call Sarah, shall we?"
Sounds of touch tones and ringing follows
 |
Clerk: "Kinkos."
DJ: "Hey, is Sarah around there somewhere?"
Clerk: "This is she."
DJ: "Sarah, this is Edgar with WBAM. We are live on the air right now and I've been talking with Brian for a couple of hours now."
Sarah laughing: "A couple of hours?"
DJ: "Well, a while now. He is on the line with us. Brian knows not to give any answers away or you'll lose. So... do you know the rules of MateMatch?"
Sarah: "No."
DJ: "Good!"
Brian laughing
Sarah laughing: "Brian, what the hell are you up to?"
Brian laughing: "Just answer his questions honestly, Ok? Be completely honest."
DJ: "Yeah yeah yeah. Sure. Now, I will ask you three questions, Sarah. If your answers match Brian's answers, then the both of you will be off to Orlando, Florida for five days on us. Disney World. Sea World. Tickets to the Magic's game. The whole deal. Get it Sarah?"
Sarah laughing: "Yes."
DJ: "Alright. When did you last have sex, Sarah?"
Sarah: "Oh God, Brian.... Uh, this morning before Brian went to work."
DJ: "What time?"
Sarah: "Around eight this morning."
DJ: "Very good. Next question. How long did it last?"
Sarah: "Twelve, fifteen minutes maybe."
DJ: "Hmm… That's close enough. I am sure she is trying to protect his manhood. We've got one last question, Sarah. You are one question away from a trip to Florida. Are you ready?"
Sarah laughing: "Yes."
DJ: "Where did you have it?"
Sarah: "Oh My God, Brian!! You didn't tell them that, did you?"
Brian: "Just tell him, honey."
DJ: "What is bothering you so much, Sarah?"
Sarah: "Well, it's just that my mom is vacationing with us and..."
DJ: Come on Sarah... Where did you have it?
Sarah: "In the ass..."
After a long pause
DJ: "Folks, we need to take a station break!"
There is this guy who has a 25 inch dick. He goes to a witch in the woods and asks her if she can make his dick smaller because he just can't please the ladies because it is just too big, he hasn't found a lady yet who likes it and he can't get any pleasure.
She tells him to go into the woods and he will find a frog when he finds the frog he is to ask it to marry him. If the frog says 'no', his cock will shrink 5 inches.
He goes into the woods and finds this frog. He asks, "Frog, will you marry me?"
The frog says, "No", and his prick shrinks five inches.
The guys thinks to himself, "Wow, that was pretty cool. But, it's still too big."
So he goes back to the frog and again asks the frog, "Frog, will you marry me?"
Frog says, "No, I won't marry you."
The guys dick shrinks another five inches. But that's still 15 inches and he thinks his chop is still just a little bit too big. But he thinks that 10 inches would be just great.
He goes back to the frog and asks, "Frog, will you marry me?"
Frog: "How many times do I have to tell you -- NO, NO, NO!!!" - See more at: http://www.bestfunnystories.com/2016/03/25-inch-dick.html#more
I laughed till tears came….Take a moment and read this…if you don’t laugh you do not have a pulse. Seriously read it – You’ll definitely laugh out loud!!!All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal – The Epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now…the wax. Read on…
My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, and play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: ‘Maybe should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet.’
So I headed to the site of my demise…the bathroom. It was one of those ‘cold wax’ kits. No melting a clump of hot wax. You just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I’m not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (Ya think!?!)
So I pull one of the thin strips out. It’s two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. ‘Cold wax’…yeah…right! I lay the strip across my thigh, hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works!!! OK, so it wasn’t the best feeling, but it wasn’t too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me!!!
I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire. With my next wax strip, I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my hoo-ha and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek…it was a long strip. I inhale deeply and brace myself…RRRRRRIIIIPPP!!!
I’m blind!!! Blinded from pain!!! Oh my Gawd!!! Vision returning…I notice that I’ve only managed to pull off half the strip. Crap!!!
Another deep breath and RIP!!! Everything is spinning and spotted. I think I may pass out…must stay conscious…must stay conscious. Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe…OK, back to normal. I want to see my trophy…a wax covered strip; the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip. There’s no hair on it!!! Where is the hair??? Where is the wax???
Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip…it’s not!!! I touch. I am touching wax!!! I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair.
Then I make the next big mistake…remember my foot is still propped upon the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down. Sealed shut!!! My butt is sealed shut!!! Sealed shut!!!
I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do. I think to myself, ‘Please don’t let me get the urge to poop. My head may pop off!!!’ What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!!! Hot water melts wax!!! I’ll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right??? Wrong!!!
I get in the tub. The water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment. I sit. Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub…in scalding hot water. This, by the way, doesn’t melt cold wax. So, now I’m stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cemented myself to the porcelain!!!
God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom. I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and have some secret of how to get me undone. It’s a very good conversation starter ‘So, my butt and hoo-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub.’ There is a slight pause. She doesn’t know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me.
She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, ‘Are we talking cheeks or hole or hoo-ha?’ She’s laughing out loud by now…I can hear her.
I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. Yeah…Right!!! I should be the joke of someone else’s night.
While we go through various solutions, I resort to trying to scrape the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better than to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!!!
By now, my brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I’m pretty sure I’m going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counselling for this event.
My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace…the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and oh my gawd!!! The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend. It’s sooooo painful, but I really don’t care…’It works!!! It works!!!’
I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up.
I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair…the hair is still there…all of it!!! So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I’m numb by now…nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.
Next week I’m going to try hair colour.
You may have read the following before - but it's always good for a laugh out loud - even better, try to read it out loud to someone else!
Dear Friends, the mind is a wonderful thing; curiosity is not a wonderful thing. To much of one and not enough of the other in the wrong hands can be lethal in some cases.
My wife is fond of saying that my last words on this earth will be something akin to, "hey y'all, hold my beer and watch this!" Well, I have outdone myself once again. No doubt you will see this true story chronicled in a LifeTime movie in the near future. Here goes...............
Last weekend I spied something at Larry's Pistol and Pawn (Name of the establishment changed to protect the innocent) that tickled my fancy. (Note: Keep in mind that my "fancy" is easily tickled). I bought something really cool for my wife. The occasion was our anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my sweet girl. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized Tazer gun with a clip. For those of you who are not familiar with this product, it is a less-than-lethal stun gun with two metal prongs designed to incapacitate an assailant with a shock of high-voltage, low amperage electricity while you flee to safety. The effects are supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, but allowing you adequate time to retreat to safety. You simply jab the prongs into your 250 lb. tattooed assailant, push the button, and it will render him a slobbering, goggle-eyed, muscle-twitching, whimpering, pencil-neck geek. If you've never seen one of these things in action, then you're truly missing out--way too cool!
Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two triple-A batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was so disappointed. Upon reading the directions (we don't need no stinkin' directions), I found much to my chagrin that this particular model would not create an arch between the prongs. How disappointing! I do love fire for effect. I learned that, if I pushed the button, however, and pressed it against a metal surface that I'd get the blue arch of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs that I was so looking forward to. I did so. Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arch of electricity, and a loud pop!!! Yipeeeeee . . I'm easily amused, just for your information, but I have yet to explain to the wife what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.
Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-A batteries, etc., etc. There I sat on my couch, my dog, Mini, looking on intently (trusting little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not Mini) and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood target. I must admit I thought about zapping Mini for a fraction of a second and thought better of it. She is such a sweet dog, after all. But, if I was going to give this thing to the wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong? Was I wrong to think that? Seemed reasonable to me at the time...
So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and BBT hat on my head, directions in one hand, Tazer in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. All the while I'm looking at this little device (measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference, pretty cute really, and loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, "no friggin' way!" Friggin' way--trust me, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best. Those of you who know me well have got a pretty good idea of what followed. I'm sitting there alone, Mini looking on with her head cocked to one side as if to say, "Don't do it, buddy," reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny lil' ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad (sound, rational thinking under the circumstances, wouldn't you agree?). I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the heck of it. (Note: You know, a bad decision is like hindsight--always twenty-twenty. It is so obvious that it was a bad decision after the fact, even though it seemed so right at the time. Don't ya hate that?)
I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HO**************! DAaaaauuuuuung!!!
I'm pretty sure that Jessie Ventura ran in through the front door, picked me up out of that recliner, then body slammed me on the carpet over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, chest on fire, you-know-whats nowhere to be found, soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position. Mini was standing over me making funny sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, "Do it again, do it again!" (Note: If you ever feel compelled to mug yourself with a Tazer, one note of caution. There is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself. You're not going to let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. Then, if you're lucky, you won't dislodge one of the prongs 1/4" deep in your thigh like yours truly.)
SON-OF-A-***** that hurt! A minute or so later (I can't be sure, astime was a relative thing at this point), I collected my wits (whatlittle I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My hat was on the mantel of the fireplace. How did that get get there??? My triceps, right thigh and chest were still twitching. My facefelt like it had been shot up with Novocain, as my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. give or take an ounce or two, I'm pretty sure.
By the way, has anyone seen my you-know-whats? I think they ran away. I'm offering a reward. Miss 'em . . . sure would like to get'em back.
