I hate how funerals are always at 9 a.m. – I’m not really a mourning person.
Two blondes fall down a well. One says to the other one, “Isn’t it dark down here?” She replies, “I don’t know. I can’t see.”
An Englishman, a Frenchman, a ravishing blonde and an old lady are sharing a compartment on a train as it winds its way through the Alps. Every now and then the train passes through a tunnel, during which time the compartment is plunged into complete darkness. On one such occasion, a ringing slap is heard and as the train passes back into daylight, the Frenchman is rubbing his sore, red cheek.
The old lady thinks, “I bet that dirty Frenchman fondled the blonde and she struck the pervert.”
The blonde thinks, “I bet that filthy Frenchman was looking to grope me in the dark, mistook the old lady for me and she slapped him.”
The Frenchman thinks, “I bet that perfidious Englishman touched up the blonde in the dark and she slapped me by mistake.”
The Englishman thinks, “I can’t wait for another tunnel so I can slap that French twat again.”
I had to clean out my spice rack and found everything was too old and had to be thrown out. – What a waste of thyme.