First One to Talk

This guy has always dreamed of owning a Harley Davidson. One day he has finally saved up enough money so he goes down to the dealer. After he picks out the perfect bike, the dealer tells him about an old biker trick that will keep the chrome on his new bike free from rust. The dealer tells him that all he has to do is to keep a jar of Vaseline handy and put it on the chrome before it rains, and everything will be fine. He happily pays for the bike and leaves.

A few months later, the young man meets a woman and falls in love. She asks him to come home and meet her parents over dinner. He readily accepts and the date is set. At the appointed time, he picks her up on his Harley and they ride to her parents’ house. Before they go in, she tells him that they have a family tradition that whoever speaks first after dinner must do the dishes.

After a delicious dinner everyone sits in silence waiting for the first person to break the silence and get stuck doing the dishes. After a long 15 minutes, the young man decides to speed things up, so he reaches over and kisses his woman in front of her family. No one says a word.

Emboldened, he slips his hand under her blouse and fondles her breasts. Still no one says a word.

Finally, he throws her on the table and has sex with her in front of everyone. No one says a word.

Now he is getting desperate, so he grabs her mother and throws her on the table.  Still no one speaks.

By now he is thinking what to do next when he hears thunder in the distance. His first thought is to protect the chrome on his Harley, so he gets his jacket, reaches in his pocket and pulls out his jar of Vaseline. The father says, “Okay, damnit, I’ll do the damn dishes!”

Trip to Rome

A woman was at her hairdresser’s getting her hair styled for a trip to Rome with her husband. She mentioned the trip to the hairdresser, who
responded:
“Rome? Why would anyone want to go there? It’s crowded and dirty. You’re crazy to go to Rome. So, how are you getting there?”
“We’re taking Continental,” was the reply. “We got a great rate!”
“Continental?” exclaimed the hairdresser.” That’s a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are ugly, and they’re always late. So, where are you staying in Rome?”
“We’ll be at this exclusive little place over on Rome’s Tiber River called Teste.”
“Don’t go any further. I know that place. Everybody thinks its gonna be something special and exclusive, but it’s really a dump.”
“We’re also going to go to see the Vatican and maybe get to see the Pope.”
“That’s rich,” laughed the hairdresser. “You and a million other people trying to see him. He’ll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on this lousy trip of yours. You’re going to need it.”
A month later, the woman again came in for a hairdo. The hairdresser asked her about her trip to Rome.
“It was wonderful,” explained the woman, “not only were we on time in one of Continental’s brand new planes, but it was overbooked, and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were wonderful, and I had a handsome 28-year-old steward who waited on me hand and foot.
And the hotel was great! They’d just finished a $5 million remodeling job, and now it’s a jewel, the finest hotel in the city. They, too, were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us their owner’s suite at no extra charge!”
“Well,” muttered the hairdresser, “that’s all well and good, but I know you didn’t get to see the Pope.”
“Actually, we were quite lucky, because as we toured the Vatican, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder, and explained that the Pope likes to meet some of the visitors, and if I’d be so kind as to step into his private room and wait, the Pope would personally greet me. Sure enough, five minutes later, the Pope walked through the door and shook my hand! I knelt down and he spoke a few words to me.”
“Oh, really! What’d he say?”
He said: “Who messed up your hair!?”

Routine Test

Bill and Bob, two ten year olds, were sitting in the waiting room of a pediatric clinic. Bill happened to be crying very loudly.

“Why are you crying?” Bob asked.

“I came here for a blood test,” sobbed Bill.

“So? Are you afraid?”

“No. For the blood test, but mom said they will cut my finger to get the blood.”

As Bob heard this, he immediately began crying profusely.

Astonished, Bill stopped his tears and asked Bob, “And why are you crying now?”

To which Bob replied, “Mom brought me for a urine test!”

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