The Monday Morning Mirth

Tag: nobody

  • Boots

    A lady went into a bar in Waco and saw a cowboy with his feet propped up on a table. He had the biggest boots she’d ever seen.

    The woman asked the cowboy if it’s true what they say about men with big feet are well endowed.

    The cowboy grinned and said, "Sure is, little lady. Why don’t you come on out to the bunkhouse and let me prove it to you?"

    The woman wanted to find out for herself, so she spent the night with him.

    The next morning she handed him a $100 bill.

    Blushing, he said, "Well, thankee, ma’am. Ah’m real flattered. Ain’t nobody ever paid me fer mah services before."

    "Don’t be flattered. Take the money and buy yourself some boots that fit."

  • Reggie, Tank and the Two Elderly Ladies

    They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.
        
    But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie’s advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn’t look like "Lab people," whatever that meant. They must’ve thought I did.

    But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner.

    See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.

    I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that. "Okay, Reggie," I said out loud, "let’s see if your previous owner has any advice."

    To Whomever Gets My Dog:

    Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie’s new owner. I’m not even happy writing it. He knew something was different.

    So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.

    First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel, the way he hoards them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. He hasn’t done it yet. Doesn’t matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after them, so be careful. Don’t do it by any roads.

    Next, the commands he’s learned. Reggie knows the obvious ones —"sit," "stay," "come," and "heel."

    He knows hand signals, too: He knows "ball" and "food" and "bone" and "treat" like nobody’s business.

    Feeding schedule: twice a day, regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.

    He’s up on his shots. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don’t know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.

    Finally, give him some time. It’s only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He’s gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn’t bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.

    And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you… His name’s not Reggie. He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn’t bear to give them his real name. But if someone is reading this .. well it means that his new owner should know his real name. His real name is "Tank." Because, that is what I drive.

    I told the shelter that they couldn’t make "Reggie" available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. You see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve left Tank with … and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter … in the "event" … to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my CO is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he’d do it personally. And if you’re reading this, then he made good on his word.

    Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.

    If I have to give up Tank to keep those terrible people from coming to the US I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

    All right, that’s enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

    Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight – every night – from me.

    Thank you,

    Paul Mallory

    I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure, I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

    I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.
    "Hey, Tank," I said quietly

    The dog’s head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.

    "C’mere boy."

    He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted; searching for the name he hadn’t heard in months. "Tank," I whispered.

    His tail swished.

    I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.

    "It’s me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me." Tank reached up and licked my cheek.

    "So whatdaya say we play some ball?" His ears perked again.

    "Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?"

    Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Good on you for lasting this long – great story, but I can understand you might be thinking, "That’s not Mirth!"

    So here you go:

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Two elderly ladies had been friends for many decades. Over the years they had shared all kinds of activities and adventures. Lately, their activities had been limited to meeting a few times a week to play cards. One day they were playing cards when one looked at the other and said, "Now don’t get mad at me….. I know we’ve been friends for a long time….. but I just can’t think of your name! I’ve thought and thought, but I can’t remember it. Please tell me what your name is.

    Her friend glared at her. For at least three minutes she just stared and glared at her. Finally she said, "How soon do you need to know?

  • Jimmy

    Jimmy is sitting at the bar talking at the barman.


    You know people are funny *hic*


    I spent 5 years building a boat. *hic* nobody ever called me jimmy the boat builder.


    I spent 10 years building a bridge. *hic* nobody ever called me jimmy the bridge builder.


    I spent 15 years building a house. *hic* nobody ever called me jimmy the house builder.


    …*hic*…


    But I fuck one goat…

  • Ethel

    Last week, Ethel checked into a motel on her 70th birthday and she was a bit lonely. She thought, "I’ll call one of those men you see advertised in phone books for escorts and sensual massages." She looked through the phone book, found a full page ad for a guy calling himself Tender Tony – a very handsome man with assorted physical skills flexing in the photo. He had all the right muscles in all the right places, thick wavy hair, long powerful legs, dazzling smile, six-pack abs, and she felt quite certain she could bounce a quarter off his well oiled bum….

    She figured, what the heck, nobody will ever know. I’ll give him a call.

    "Good evening, ma’am, how may I help you?". Oh my, he sounded sooo sexy!

    Afraid she would lose her nerve if she hesitated, she rushed right in, "Hi, I hear you give a great massage. I’d like you to come to my motel room and give me one. No, wait, I should be straight with you. I’m in town all alone and what I really want is sex. I want it hot, and I want it now. Bring implements, toys, rubber, leather, whips, everything you’ve got in your bag of tricks. We’ll go hot and heavy all night – tie me up, cover me in chocolate syrup and whipped cream, anything and everything, I’m ready! Now how does that sound?"

    He said, "That sounds absolutely fantastic, but you need to press 9 for an outside line."

  • Joe and the Dishes

    Joe wanted to buy a motorbike. He doesn’t have much luck until one day, he comes across a Harley with a ‘for sale’ sign on it.
     
    The bike seems even better than a new one, although it is 10 years old. It is shiny and in absolute mint condition.
     
    He immediately buys it, and asks the seller how he kept it in such great condition for 10 years.
     
    ‘Well, it’s quite simple, really,’ says the seller, ‘whenever the bike is outside and it’s gonna rain, rub Vaseline on the chrome. It protects it from the rain.’
     
    And he hands Joe a jar of Vaseline.
     
    That night, his girlfriend, Sandra, invites him over to meet her parents. Naturally, they take the bike there.
     
    But just before they enter the house, Sandra stops him and says, ‘I have to tell you something about my family before we go in.’
     
    ‘When we eat dinner, we don’t talk. In fact, the first person to say anything at all during the meal has to do the dishes.’
     
    ‘No problem,’ he says. And in they go.
     
    Joe is shocked. Right smack in the middle of the living room is a huge stack of dirty dishes.
     
    In the kitchen is another huge stack of dishes. Piled up on the stairs, in the corridor, everywhere he looks, dirty dishes.
     
    They sit down to dinner and, sure enough, no one says a word.
     
    As dinner progresses, Joe decides to take advantage of the situation.
     
    So he leans over and kisses Sandra.
     
    No one says a word.
     
    So he reaches over and fondles her breasts.
     
    Still, nobody says a word. So he stands up, grabs her, rips her clothes off, throws her on the table, and screws her right there, in front of her parents.

    His girlfriend is a little flustered, her dad is obviously livid, and her mom horrified when he sits back down, but no one says a word.
     
    He looks at her mom..
     
    ‘She’s got a great body,’ he thinks.

    So he grabs the mom, bends her over the dinner table, pulls down her panties, and screws her every which way right there on the dinner table.. After she has a big orgasm, he sits down again.
     
    Now his girlfriend is furious and her dad is boiling, the Mom is pleasantly beaming.

    But still, Total silence.
     
    All of a sudden there is a loud clap of thunder, and it starts to pour rain.
     
    Joe remembers his bike, so he pulls the jar of Vaseline from his pocket…
     
    Suddenly the father shouted….

    ‘Okay, OKAY!!! I’ll do the fucking dishes!!!

  • Yogi Bera at St Louis

    "It is wonderful to be here in St. Louis and to visit the old neighborhood. I haven’t been back since the last time I was here. Everything looks the same, only different. Of course, things in the past are never as they used to be.

    "Before I speak, I have something I’d like to say. As you may know, I never went to college, or high school for that matter. To be honest, I’m not much of a public speaker, so I will try to keep this short as long as I can.

    "As I look out upon all of the young people here tonight, there are a number of words of wisdom I might depart. But I think the most irrelevant piece of advice I can pass along is this:

    "The most important things in life are the things that are least important.

    "I could have gone a number of directions in my life. Growing up on the Hill, I could have opened a restaurant or a bakery. But the more time I spent in places like that, the less time I wanted to spend there. I knew that if I wanted to play baseball, I was going to have to play baseball. My childhood friend, Joe Garagiola, also became a big-league ballpayer, as did my son, Dale. I think you’ll find the similarities in our careers are quite different.

    "You’re probably wondering, how does a kid from the Hill become a New York Yankee and get in the Hall of Fame? Well, let me tell you something, if it was easy nobody would do it. Nothing is impossible until you make it possible.

    "Of course, times were different. To be honest, I was born at an early age. Things are much more confiscated now. It seems like a nickel ain’t worth a dime anymore. But let me tell you, if the world was perfect, it wouldn’t be. Even Napoleon had his Watergate.

    "You’ll make some wrong mistakes along the way, but only the wrong survive. Never put off until tomorrow what you can’t do today. Denial isn’t just a river in Europe.

    "Strive for success and remember you won’t get what you want unless you want what you get. Some will choose a different path. If they don’t want to come along, you can’t stop them. Remember, none are so kind as those who will not see.

    "Keep the faith and follow the Commandments: Do not covet thy neighbor’s wife, unless she has nothing else to wear. Treat others before you treat yourself. As Franklin Eleanor Roosevelt once said, ‘The only thing you have to fear is beer itself.’

    "Hold on to your integrity, ladies and gentlemen. It’s the one thing you really need to have; if you don’t have it, that’s why you need it. Work hard to reach your goals, and if you can’t reach them, use a ladder. There may come a day when you get hurt and have to miss work. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt to miss work.

    "Over the years, I have realized that baseball is really just a menopause for life. We all have limitations, but we also know limitation is the greatest form of flattery. Beauty is in the eyes of Jim Holder.

    "Half the lies you hear won’t be true, and half the things you say, you won’t ever say.

    "As parents you’ll want to give your children all the things you didn’t have. But don’t buy them an encyclopedia, make them walk to school like you did. Teach them to have respect for others, especially the police. They are not here to create disorder, they are here to preserve it.

    "Throughout my career, I found good things always came in pairs of three. There will be times when you are an overwhelming underdog. Give 100 percent to everything you do, and when that’s not enough, give everything you have left. ‘Winning isn’t everything, but it’s better than rheumatism.’ I think Guy Lombardo said that.

    "Finally, dear graduates and friends, cherish this moment; it is a memory you will never forget. You have your entire future ahead of you.

    "Good luck and Bob’s speed."

    May 19, 2007: St. Louis native Yogi Berra addresses the crowd on hand for the Saint Louis University graduation.

  • The Young Monk

    A young monk arrives at the monastery. He is assigned to helping the other monks in copying the old canons and laws of the church by hand.

    He notices, however, that all of the monks are copying from copies, not from the original manuscript. So, the new monk goes to the head abbot to question this, pointing out that if someone made even a small error in the first copy, it would never be picked up! In fact, that error would be continued in all of the subsequent copies.

    The head monk, says, "We have been copying from the copies for centuries, but you make a good point, my son."

    He goes down into the dark caves underneath the monastery where the original manuscripts are held as archives in a locked vault that hasn’t been opened for hundreds of years. Hours go by and nobody sees the old abbot.

    So, the young monk gets worried and goes down to look for him. He sees him banging his head against the wall and wailing,

    "We missed the "R" ! , we missed the "R" !"

    His forehead is all bloody and bruised and he is crying uncontrollably. The young monk asks the old abbot, "What’s wrong, father?"

    With A choking voice, the old abbot replies, "The word was…

    CELEBRATE!!!"

  • The Cowboy and the Yuppie

    A cowboy was herding his herd in a remote pasture when suddenly a brand-new BMW advanced out of a dust cloud towards him. The driver, a young man in a Brioni suit, Gucci shoes, Ray Ban sunglasses and YSL tie, leans out the window and asks the cowboy, "If I tell you exactly how many cows and calves you have in your herd, will you give me a calf?"

    The cowboy looks at the man, obviously a yuppie, then looks at his peacefully grazing herd and calmly answers, "Sure. Why not?"

    The yuppie parks his car, whips out his Dell notebook computer, connects it to his AT&T cell phone, surfs to a NASA page on the Internet, where he calls up a GPS satellite navigation system to get an exact fix on his location which he then feeds to another NASA satellite that scans the area in an ultra-high-resolution photo. The young man then opens the digital photo in Adobe Photoshop and exports it to an image processing facility in Munich, Germany. Within seconds, he receives an email on his Palm Pilot that the image has been processed and the data stored. He then accesses a MS-SQL database through an ODBC connected Excel spreadsheet with hundreds of complex formulas. He uploads all of this data via an email on his Blackberry and, after a few minutes, receives a response.

    Finally, he prints out a full-colour, 150-page report on his hi-tech, miniaturized HP LaserJet printer and finally turns to the cowboy and says, "You have exactly 1586 cows and calves."

    "That’s right. Well, I guess you can take one of my calves," says the cowboy. He watches the young man select one of the animals and looks on amused as the young man stuffs it into the trunk of his BMW.

    Then the cowboy says to the young man, "Hey, if I can tell you exactly what your business is, will you give me back my calf?" The young man thinks about it for a second and then says, "Okay, why not?"

    "You’re a consultant." says the cowboy.

    "Wow! That’s correct," says the yuppie, "but how did you guess that?"

    "No guessing required." answered the cowboy. "You showed up here even though nobody called you; then you wanted to get paid for an answer I already knew; to a question I didn’t ask; and you don’t know anything about my business."

    "..Now give me back my dog."

  • Onestone the Indian Brave

    This is the story of Onestone, the Indian Brave.

    This was his Indian name given to him because he had only one testicle. After years and years of this torment Onestone cracked and said, "If anyone calls me Onestone again I will kill them!"

    The word got around and nobody called him that any more. Then one day a young girl named Blue Bird forgot and said, "Good morning Onestone." He jumped up, grabbed her and took her deep into the forest. There he screwed her all day, he screwed her all night, he screwed her all the next day, until Blue Bird died from exhaustion. The word got around that Onestone meant business.

    Years went by until a woman named Yellow Bird returned to the village after many years away. Yellow Bird, who was Blue Bird’s cousin, was overjoyed when she saw Onestone and hugged him and said, "Good to see you Onestone." Onestone grabbed her and took her deep into the forest where he screwed her all day, screwed her all night, screwed her all the next day, screwed her all the next night, but Yellow Bird wouldn’t die!

    What is the moral of the story?

    Every one knows you can’t kill two birds with one stone.

  • Grandma and Grandpa

    A teacher asked her young pupils how they spent their vacation. One child wrote the following:

    "We always used to spend the holidays with Grandma and Grandpa. They used to live here in a big brick house, but Grandpa got retarded and they moved to Florida and now they live in a place with a lot of other retarded people.

    They live in a tin box and have rocks painted green to look like grass. They ride around on big tricycles and wear name tags because they don’t know who they are anymore. They go to a building called a wrecked centre, but they must have got it fixed, because it is all right now.

    They play games and do exercises there, but they don’t do them very well. There is a swimming pool, too, but they all jump up and down in it with their hats on. I guess they don’t know how to swim.

    At their gate, there is a doll house with a little old man sitting in it. He watches all day so nobody can escape. Sometimes they sneak out. Then they go cruising in their golf carts.

    My Grandma used to bake cookies and stuff, but I guess she forgot how. Nobody there cooks, they just eat out. And they eat the same thing every night: Early Birds. Some of the people can’t get past the man in the dollhouse to go out. So the ones who do get out bring food back to the wrecked centre and call it pot luck.

    My Grandma says Grandpa worked all his life to earn his retardment and says I should work hard so I can be retarded some day, too. When I earn my retardment I want to be the man in the doll house. Then I will let people out so they can visit their grandchildren."