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A little girl asked her Mom, “Mom, may I take the dog for a walk around the block?” Mom replied, “No, because she is in heat.” “What’s that mean?” asked the child. “Go ask your father. I think he’s in the garage.”
The little girl went to the garage and said, “Dad, may I take Sasha for a walk around the block? I asked Mom, but she said the dog was in heat, and to come to you.” Dad said, “Bring Sasha over here.” Being old school he took a rag, soaked it with a little gasoline, dabbed the dog’s backside with it to disguise the scent, and said, “OK, you can go now, but keep Sasha on the leash and only go one time round the block.”
The little girl left and returned a few minutes later with no dog on the leash. Surprised, Dad asked, “Where’s Sasha?” The little girl said, “She ran out of gas about halfway down the block, so another dog is pushing her home.”
A man returned to his parked BMW to find the headlights broken and considerable damage to the front end of the car. There was no sign of the offending vehicle, but he was relieved to see that there was a note stuck under the windshield wiper.
The note read: “Sorry I just backed into your car. The witnesses who saw the accident are nodding and smiling at me because they think I’m leaving my name, address and other particulars, But I’m not.”
A Cajun named Jean Paul moved to Texas and bought a donkey from an old farmer for $100.00. The farmer agreed to deliver the donkey the next day.
The next day the farmer drove up and said, “Sorry, but I got some bad news. The donkey died.”
“Well then, just give me my money back.”
“Cain’t do that. I went and spent it already.”
“OK then, just unload the donkey.”
“What ya gonna do with em.”
“I’m gonna raffle him off.”
“Ya can’t raffle off a dead donkey!”
“Sure I can. Watch me. I just won’t tell anyone he’s dead.”
A month later the farmer met up with the Cajun and asked, “What happened with the dead donkey?”
“I raffled him off. I sold 500 tickets at $2.00 apiece and made a profit of $898.00.”
“Didn’t no one complain?”
“Just the guy who won. So I gave him his $2.00 back.”
You’ll need the following: a cup of butter, a cup of sugar, four large eggs, two cups of dried fruit, a teaspoon of baking soda, a teaspoon of salt, a cup of brown sugar, lemon juice, nuts, and a bottle of whisky.
Sample the whisky to check for quality. To be sure it is the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink.
In a large bowl, combine butter with sugar. Turn on the electric mixer, beat sugar and butter until fluffy. Sample and add one teaspoon of sugar if needed, mix again.
Make sure the whisky is still okay. Cry another tup. Turn off the mixer. Break two eggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit. Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers pry it loose with a stapula.
Sample the whisky again to check for tonsisticity. Next, sift two cups of salt. Or something. Who cares? Check the whisky. Now sift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Spoon. Of sugar or something. Whatever you can find.
Grease the oven. Turn the cake tin to 350 degrees. Don’t forget to beat off the turner. Throw the bowl out of the window, check the whisky again and go to bed.
A blonde wanted to sell her car, but couldn’t find any buyers.
She called her friend for advice, and her friend asked her how many miles she had on her car. “235,000 miles.” Her friend told her that was the problem. Then the blonde’s friend told her that her brother is a mechanic and could put back the miles to whatever she wanted. So the blonde went to the mechanic and told him to put the miles at 40,000.
Two days later the blond’s friend asked her if she sold the car since her brother dropped the miles.
The blonde told her, “Why would I sell the car? There are only 40,000 miles on it!”