Professor Ratigan said:
That doesn't make sense...
Jokes
- Thread starter Vipsoccermaster
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That doesn't make sense...
SuperZambezi© said:
...well, you gotta have a completely perverted mind to understand this "that's what she said" joke. If you do, and you still think this doesn't make sense, well... I fail.
Charizard being 14.
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Professor Ratigan said:SuperZambezi© said:
...well, you gotta have a completely perverted mind to understand this "that's what she said" joke. If you do, and you still think this doesn't make sense, well... I fail.
I understand that's what she said jokes. This one just doesn't make sense lol. It's too much of a stretch to a BJ joke, if that's what you're getting at =P
SuperZambezi° said:
This
Charizard wanting to be a Mod don't forget thatAegis! said:
What would FedEx and UPS be called if they joined up?
FedUP.
FedUP.
[quote author=Sushi Boy]In the club or on the street, everybody that I meet:
Wants to learn to play my game!
When they watch the way I groove, to my head to my shoes
And all the girls know my name![/quote]
That's what SHE said. =P
Wants to learn to play my game!
When they watch the way I groove, to my head to my shoes
And all the girls know my name![/quote]
That's what SHE said. =P
Charizard being 13.
That one's even funnier!
That one's even funnier!
*bump*
Oh, and the fact that you can make footprints in the fusking wood.
Oh, and the fact that you can make footprints in the fusking wood.
I don't get it!!! ??? anyways...Comrade Krasniy said:
A superhero walks into a kitchen.
Says the superhero, “Give me two antennas please.”
Says the guy behind the counter, “Can you wait one hour?”
Says the superhero, “Oh, that’s fine, I’m old.”
I am the Big Shot.
You heard me right the first time. Name of bachelor Johnny Cool. Occupation: Big Shot. Occupation at the moment: just having fun. What a party that was - the drinks were loaded and so were the dolls.
I narrowed my eyes and poured a stiff Manhattan. Then I saw... Hotsie. What a dame. A big, bountiful babe in the region of 48-23-38. One hell of a region. She had the hottest lips since Hiroshima: I had to stand back for fear of being burned. Whiskey wow wow. I breathed. She was dressed as Biffo the Bear. In that kind of outfit she could get rolled at night... and I don't mean on a crap table.
"It's kind of revealing, isn't it? Revealing... it's positively risqué! I like it."
She said, "You're a man with a thousand Gs, right?"
"A thousand what?" I quipped.
"G-men, girls, guns, guts - you're my type."
"Wrong, baby!" I slapped her hard. "I'm a 'L' man: strictly liquor, love and laughs."
She stared over my shoulder: "Play it cool, Johnny." Play it what? I flipped. "Listen, I fought my way up from tough East Side New York. Lead-filled saps and sub-machine guns."
She said, "Johnny, this is a deadly game, have a few laughs and go home." I shuddered. Normally I pack a rod in pyjamas - I carry nothing but scars from Normandy beach. I said "Wrong, baby, you can't fool me." She spat playfully. "I'm ahead of you, Johnny." I studied the swell of her enormous boobs and said: "Baby, you're so far ahead it's beautiful."
"You, you are, you are eccentric, I like that."
"Electric cheri, bounce off my rocket, tout comprende?" We spoke French fluently. Our lips met again and again. "Yeah, yeah yeah" I slobbered. Hotsie said: "You're slobbering all over the seat, kid."
I went home late. Very late. What could I say to my wife? "Darling, I've been beaten up again." Let's face it - she's credulous as hell. A punk stopped me on the street, he said: "You got a light, mac?"
I said, "No, but I got a dark brown overcoat."
You heard me right the first time. Name of bachelor Johnny Cool. Occupation: Big Shot. Occupation at the moment: just having fun. What a party that was - the drinks were loaded and so were the dolls.
I narrowed my eyes and poured a stiff Manhattan. Then I saw... Hotsie. What a dame. A big, bountiful babe in the region of 48-23-38. One hell of a region. She had the hottest lips since Hiroshima: I had to stand back for fear of being burned. Whiskey wow wow. I breathed. She was dressed as Biffo the Bear. In that kind of outfit she could get rolled at night... and I don't mean on a crap table.
"It's kind of revealing, isn't it? Revealing... it's positively risqué! I like it."
She said, "You're a man with a thousand Gs, right?"
"A thousand what?" I quipped.
"G-men, girls, guns, guts - you're my type."
"Wrong, baby!" I slapped her hard. "I'm a 'L' man: strictly liquor, love and laughs."
She stared over my shoulder: "Play it cool, Johnny." Play it what? I flipped. "Listen, I fought my way up from tough East Side New York. Lead-filled saps and sub-machine guns."
She said, "Johnny, this is a deadly game, have a few laughs and go home." I shuddered. Normally I pack a rod in pyjamas - I carry nothing but scars from Normandy beach. I said "Wrong, baby, you can't fool me." She spat playfully. "I'm ahead of you, Johnny." I studied the swell of her enormous boobs and said: "Baby, you're so far ahead it's beautiful."
"You, you are, you are eccentric, I like that."
"Electric cheri, bounce off my rocket, tout comprende?" We spoke French fluently. Our lips met again and again. "Yeah, yeah yeah" I slobbered. Hotsie said: "You're slobbering all over the seat, kid."
I went home late. Very late. What could I say to my wife? "Darling, I've been beaten up again." Let's face it - she's credulous as hell. A punk stopped me on the street, he said: "You got a light, mac?"
I said, "No, but I got a dark brown overcoat."
LeBron James
The Last Airbender
The PB Word
Women's Rights.
Beyond Petroleum
Tax Cuts
Muse.
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