One day, and dog walked into a bar and casually took a seat on a bar stool. “Bartender,” said the dog, “I’ll have a bottle of Bud, and a bag of potato chips please.”
The astonished bartender complies and is further amazed that despite the lack of opposable thumbs, the canine is able to pick up the bottle and chips with ease.
“That’s incredible,” says the barman. “With a talent like yours, you should join the circus!”
“Why?” replied the dog. “Do they need an electrician?”
A businessman on an extended trip to Asia had been making use of the various local brothels. One morning he awoke to a shooting pain from his nether regions. Looking down at his manhood, he saw it was bright red, painfully swollen, and covered in oozing blisters. In a panic he rushed for medical assistance.
The first doctor he spoke to said, “Ah, you have Bangkok cock! We have no cure for that, and it must be amputated right away!”
“Certainly not!” protested the man. “I want a second opinion,” and he left the office.
The next doctor was just as emphatic, “You have very contagious Bangkok cock! We must amputate immediately!”
“I don’t think so,” said the man, and he left that hospital as well.
Getting desperate, he finds another doctor in the poorer part of town, and explains to the doctor what the other two doctors had told him. After a quick exam, the doctor told him, “Yes, you do have Bangkok cock, but there’s no need to amputate.”
“Whew! That’s a relief,” said the man. “So what can I do about this?”
“One… Maybe two weeks,” said the doctor, “and it will fall off by itself.”
The wife kept staring at the mirror pushing her chest out and trying to push her bust up. After about twenty minutes of this, her husband asked, “Hon, what are you doing?”
“I just wish my breasts were bigger,” she replied.
“Well if that’s all it is,” he said, “just rub some toilet paper on them every evening before you go to bed.”
“What on earth for? I’ve never heard of such a crazy thing!” she scorned.
“Well it worked for your ass didn’t it?”
Stan got a job down at the brewery, and things seemed to be working well.
One day, Stan’s wife got a knock at the door. When she answered, there was a representative from the brewery standing there. She knew the worst had happened.
“You said there was an accident, but I must know how he died,” she pleaded.
“He drowned in a vat of our finest ale.”
“Well, at least he went quickly, right?” the widow sobbed.
“Oh no, Ma’am,” replied the representative. “He got out three times to pee before he finally succumbed.”