the JOKE thread

Quote:

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Originally Posted by sycogrim

This is funny but not safe to post here :)

http://pastebin.com/hVbevjKp

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YO! that was good :P

Quote:

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Originally Posted by ViperGTI

Excellent Taxi Story

This morning, yours truly, decided to sneak in a pinch of top-secret and
highly professional canoe training at Emmerentia dam, before the first
farts of sparrows could escape their imprisoning sphincters, and even
before the glories-of-mornings of most non-gay South African men could rise
to view the possible prospects of 'before work' swims.

Yep, I was up and onto that little patch of water before sunrise, tearing
around it at record-breaking pace, sneaking in a wee bit of pre-Duzi
training, in order to wrestle the crown away from the well slow and soft
Martin Dreyer (present Duzi champion, for those of you not in the
intellectual canoe mix) next time around. Anyway, the details of my
incredible canoe talent are not up for discussion here, but rather what
happened on my drive home after the session, in rush hour traffic, and in
particular, on Jan Smuts Avenue near to the Old Parktonian sports club
around 8am.

I was happily chilling in my car, cruising along at about 60kph, in pretty
much bumper-to-bumper traffic, with nobody going anywhere any faster, it
was simply not an option. Well, not an option for anyone with a brain, with
an ounce of logic within their crania, with a drop of sense inside the
membranes of their cerebral hemispheres. You'd think that a creature
without a brain would equate to a fly or less, a category that includes
mosquitoes, stones, anvils and ....... taxi drivers. Yep, enter Sipho "I'm
a dickhead without a brain cell" Nshlovo, driver of a Toyota Hiace * 4
wheels, 1 brake pad, no lights, half a steering wheel, about 30 people
inside and 3 masking-taped windows, yep, standard issue for a South African
taxi driver. He had more than likely participated in the demonstration
march last month with hundreds of other taxi driver idiots protesting about
having had their 'vehicles' impounded for not being roadworthy, the
rocket-scientists couldn't understand what wasn't roadworthy about a taxi
with a bobejaan spanner for a steering wheel, or one without brakes (they
reckon a handbrake is just as good as the foot brake pedal). Anyway, my
mate Sipho decided things weren't flowing fast enough for him, so started
weaving in and out of the traffic, arm hanging out of his window like a
baboon's tail hanging from its ringpiece (I'm certain his armpit smelt like
a baboon's ringpiece as well, he was sweating like Bruce Fordyce's crack
after 90km's on the up run of the Comrades).

I heard this aeronautical engineer-like taxi driver coming from about 5
cars back, because everyone was hooting and slamming on brakes to avoid the
accident that he was trying his damndest to cause. After he narrowly missed
the back of my canoe as he swerved in behind me, I made a stubborn little
vow that he DEFINITELY wouldn't be cutting in front of me like that, and so
began the fun and games. The bum-wart first tried the standard tactic of
intimidation, just gradually cutting me off, in the typical "you'd better
slow down and let me in, or I'll crash into you" method. Well, I used the
typical "Fack you faeces-brain" tactic, with one hand on the hooter, the
other pointing straight at him, with my foot firmly on the accelerator,
until he backed down like Mike Catt had done in 1995 when Jonah Lomu ran
straight over him.

This had a snowball effect, which had me chuckling the whole way back to my
humble abode. Syphilis-face then decided to put all his well acquired
driving skill to the test, and adopted the smartest technique of them all,
the "Eish, I weel ovah-take on the wrong side" method, one that sadly has
caused numerous accidents in the past, including the untimely death of one
of our awesome mates, Mike Short, a year ago. This made old Maccatini
madder than a spitting cobra, with a red hot cactus lodged up its rectum.

No skin off the facking taxi drivers nose, he just accelerated more, and
tried to cut in front of the double-cab in front of me, this after he had
hooted at me and showed me a middle finger accompanied with a few
swearwords, something that made me want to beat him harder than Campbell
hit the gay boy who stabbed him repeatedly with a pen all those years ago!

Well, the fella in front of me had obviously also been observing the
proceedings, and likewise refused to let Sipho Dickdribble Nshlovo in, so
the acceleration by the monkey continued, while he tried his hardest to
outstare the double-cab driver. Sadly for the nuclear physicist, the
emergency lane was shortly going to end, with a solid stone pavement to
mark its ending. More sadly for him was the fact that he, and his 30-odd
passengers were all trying their damndest to "intimidate by staring" myself
and the double-cab man, instead of watching the road ahead (something that
most brain-owners do when driving).

I saw it coming, and was smiling my full-tusk smile even before they hit!!

Anal-bum-wart hit that pavement at about 70kph, 31 passengers bumped their
heads on the roof of the hi-ace in poetic unison, adding an extra 31 dents
to the already-facked minibus, and the two front wheels were ripped off the
chassis as the bus slid to a delightful halt. Thankfully no passengers were
hurt, which made it the most fantastic thing to witness, sadly though,
Sipho, arm still hanging out of the window, was also unscathed. However,
his car was more facked than that prostitute at PE harbour named Deloris,
and his mood was somewhat down-trodden.

I hooted and made sure he got the full-frontal of my biggest-ever super
smile, as did the driver of the double-cab, and then to my absolute joy,
looked in my mirror to see every driver behind me doing exactly the same!
The brain-cell-lacker had received his well-earned treatment! I was happier
than Hudders when he passed his board, or at least as happy!! So folks,
what a peachy morning it has been so far. The sun is shining, it's Friday,
I've done my training, Long Tom Roodt is back in the country, there will be
a lot of thirst quenched this weekend, and Sipho Faeces-face Nshlovo is one
mini-bus short of a taxi!

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Long story but worth it :) Thank you. If only everyone had the balls to stand up to these tossers

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Weasley

k cool explains a lot. but un-roadworthy taxi should be taken of the road. Had a big crash last year as taxi lost it breaks and tried to drive between the cars instead of just driving into one and getting over it.

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Agreed, But peoples should not generalize all taxis are roadworthy.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by tpex

Agreed, But peoples should not generalize all taxis are roadworthy.

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Man Fuck all taxi's!
If you drive any of the busy highways(N1,N3,N12,N17,R21) in the morings, you would see these taxi's are nothing but an accident waiting to happen!
They dont wait for 5 seconds before going off on the emergency lane or overtaking on the right hand shoulder!
I wish they would all die in fire!

OK... so in other jokes today...
Here's another long story, also very well written... and much less likely to spark "debate".

The MoviPrep experience

I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make anappointment for a colonoscopy.

A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of thecolon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing through my neighbours garden before stopping off briefly in Minneapolis .

Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, "HE 'S GOING TOSTICK A TUBE 7,000 FEET UP YOUR @RSE!"

I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called "MoviPrep," which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of the Free World's enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous.Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. Inaccordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor.

Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, and then you fill it with lukewarm water.. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32gallons..) Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, "a loose, watery bowelmovement may result." This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.

MoviPrep is a laxative of nuclear proportions. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell,your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet. My arse felt like the Japanese flag...

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, "What if I spurt on Andy?" How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked. Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this is, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire HoseMode. You would have no choice but to burn your house!

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 7,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was "Dancing Queen" by ABBA. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, "Dancing Queen" had to be the least appropriate. "You want me to turn it up?" said Andy, from somewhere behind me. "Ha ha," I said. And then it was time,the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.

I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, ABBA wasyelling "Dancing Queen, feel the beat of the tambourine," and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ!

ABOUT THE WRITER: Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for the Miami Herald..

Ah, Dave Barry.

The man's a classic comedy writer - up there with some of my faves :D

Quote:

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Originally Posted by shadowfox

For all the boozers on the forum - here's how to rate your hangovers:

1 star

No pain. no real feeling of illness. You slept in your own bed and when you woke up there were no traffic cones in there with you. You are still able to function relatively well on the energy stored up from all those vodka and Red Bulls. However, you can drink 10 bottles of water and still feel as parched as the Sahara.Even vegetarians are craving a Cheeseburger and a bag of fries.

2 star

No pain, but something is definitely amiss. You may look okay but you have the attention span and mental capacity of a stapler. The coffee you hug to try and remain focused is only exacerbating your rumbling gut, which is craving a full English breakfast. Although you have a nice demeanour about the office, you are costing your employer valuable money because all you really can handle is some light filing, followed by aimlessly surfing the net and writing junk e-mails.

3 star

Slight headache. Stomach feels crap. You are definitely a space cadet and not so productive. Anytime a girl or lad walks by you gag because the perfume/aftershave reminds you of the random gin shots you did with your alcoholic friends after the bouncer kicked you out at 1:45 am. Life would be better right now if you were in your bed with a kebab and a litre of coke watching daytime TV. You've had 4 cups of coffee, a gallon of water, 6 chicken nuggets and a litre of diet coke yet you haven't peed once.

4 star

You have lost the will to live. Your head is throbbing and you can't speak too quickly or else you might spew. Your boss has already lambasted you for being late and has given you a lecture for reeking of booze. You wore nice clothes, but you smell of socks, and you can't hide the fact that you (depending on your gender) either missed an oh-so crucial spot shaving, or, it looks like you put your make-up on while riding the dodgems.Your teeth have their own individual sweaters. Your eyes look like one big vein and your hairstyle makes you look like a reject from a second-grade class circa 1976. You would give a weeks pay for one of the following - home time, a cheeseburger and somewhere to be alone, or a Time Machine so you could go back and NOT have gone out the night before. You scare small children in the street just by walking past them.

5 star

You have a second heartbeat in your head, which is actually annoying the employee who sits next to you. Vodka vapour is seeping out of every pore and making you dizzy. You still have toothpaste crust in the corners of your mouth from brushing your teeth.Your body has lost the ability to generate saliva, so your tongue is suffocating you. You'd cry but that would take the last drop of moisture left in your body. Death seems pretty good right now. Your boss doesn't even get mad at you and your co-workers think that your dog just died because you look so pathetic. You should have called in sick because, let's face it, all you can manage to do is breathe ... very gently.

6 star hangover

You arrive home and climb into bed. Sleep comes instantly, as you were fighting it all the way home in the taxi. You get about 2 hours sleep until the noises inside your head wake you up. You notice that your bed has been cleared for take off and is flying relentlessly around the room. No matter what you do you now, you're going to chuck. You stumble out of bed and now find that your room is in a yacht under full sail. After walking along the skirting boards on alternating walls knocking off all the pictures, you find the toilet. If you are lucky you will remember to lift the lid before you spontaneously explode and wake the whole house up with your impersonation of walrus mating calls.

You sit there on the floor in your undies, cuddling the only friend in the world you have left (the toilet), randomly continuing to make the walrus noises, spitting, and farting. Help usually comes at this stage, even if it is short lived. Tears stream down your face and your abdomen hurts. Help now turns into abuse and he/she usually goes back to bed leaving you there in the dark. With your stomach totally empty, your spontaneous eruptions have died back to 15-minute intervals, but your body won't relent. You are convinced that you are starting to turn yourself inside out and swear that you saw your tonsils shoot out of your mouth on the last occasion. It is now dawn and you pass your disgusted partner getting up for the day as you try to climb into bed. She/he abuses you again for trying to get into bed with lumpy bits of dried vomit in your hair. You reluctantly accept their advice and have a shower in exchange for them driving you to the hospital.

Work is simply not an option. The whole day is spent trying to avoid anything that might make you sick again, like moving. You vow never to touch a drop again and who knows - for the next two or three hours at least you might even succeed.

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LOL! I had a combination of these once after a helluva staff party. Good times, good times... :D

So there I was looking up at the sky, watching the satellite draw ever nearer to the earth, and then it hit me....

Some old jokes again:

A wealthy man decided to go on a safari in Africa. He took his faithful pet dog along for company.

One day the dog starts chasing butterflies and before long he discovers that he is lost. So, wandering about he notices a leopard heading rapidly in his direction with the obvious intention of having lunch.

The dog thinks, "Boy, I'm in deep doo doo now." Then he noticed some bones on the ground close by, and immediately settles down to chew on the bones with his back to the approaching cat. Just as the leopard is about to leap, the dog exclaims loudly,
"Man, that was one delicious leopard. I wonder if there are any more around here?"

Hearing this the leopard halts his attack in mid stride, as a look of terror comes over him, and slinks away into the trees. "Whew",
says the leopard. "That was close. That dog nearly had me."

Meanwhile, a monkey who had been watching the whole scene from a nearby ! Tree, figures he can put this knowledge to good use and
trade it for protection from the leopard. So, off he goes.

But the dog saw him heading after the leopard with great speed, and figured
that something must be up. The monkey soon catches up with the leopard, spills the beans and strikes a deal for himself with the
leopard.

The cat is furious at being made a fool of and says, "Here monkey, hop on my back and see what's going to happen to that conniving canine."

Now the dog sees the leopard coming with the monkey on his back, and thinks," What am I going to do now?" But instead of running, the dog sits down with his back to his
attackers pretending he hasn't seen them yet.

And just when they get close enough to hear, the dog says, "Where's that monkey. I just can never trust him. I sent him off half an hour ago to bring me another leopard, and he's still not back!"

A lady goes to the doctor and complains her husband is losing interest in sex.

He gives her a pill but warns her that it's still experimental. He tells her to slip it in his mashed potatoes at dinner. At dinner that night, she does just that.

About a week later she's back at the doctor and tells him, "The pill worked great! I put it in his mashed potatoes like you said.

It wasn't five minutes later that he jumped up, pushed all the food and dishes to the floor, grabbed me, ripped off all my clothes and ravaged me right there on the table."

The doctor says, "Oh dear -- I'm sorry, we didn't realize the pill
was that strong. The foundation will be glad to pay for any damages."

The lady replied, "That's very kind - but I don't think the restaurant will let us back in anyway."