Aed jokes
What did the beer can say to the other? "Open me, please!"
What did the coconut say to the other? "Crack!"
Why did the jalapeño cross the road? I got spicy!
Why did the hubcap cross the road? Crack!
Why jazz, Jr. Get to the other side of the creek? Don’t break a leg!
What did the tornado cross the road? Let’s spin again!
Why did the turkey get to the other side of the creek? Don’t break a leg!
What did the bunny get to the side of the road? Get furry!
A man is out west driving and on the edge of town comes across a tourist stand and sitting in front is an Indian chief right out of central casting. Dour look, full headdress, a glass jar and a sign that says "Indian chief know all! $5". So the fellow's curiosity gets the better of him and he goes up to the chief, puts $5 in the jar and asks "What did I have for breakfast on this day 10 years ago?" Chief taps his chin for a moment and says "Hmmm eggs. You had eggs!"
"Eggs?" shouts the guy "Everybody has eggs! I've been had!" throws his hands in the air and leaves in a huff.
Ten years on, as fate would have it the fellow has occasion to be driving through the same town and sure enough he comes across the same stand, Indian chief, sign, and jar. So he stops the car and saunters across the road, goes up to the chief like a smart-ass, holds up his hand and says "How". Chief taps his chin for a moment and says "Poached."
I was staying over at my friend's; for the purpose of the joke, he shall be called Kian. It was 03:00 am and everyone else was asleep when I heard a soft banging on the wall. I left the room to inspect it. Kian lived with his grandad John Hauge; it was thought he had a huge slong.
The banging was getting louder, and so too was my heartbeat. I opened John's door and ventured into the room. John was fully naked. There was a glory hole through the wall where I could make it Kian's ass. This is what I have been waiting for. I rip off my shorts, which Ali G bought for me, and silently moved towards John. I shoved [my] 1-inch wonder in his ear. John furiously turned around and slapped me with his cock, "You little gimp, get on the bed."
Kian came in the room with a 2-litre bottle of Irn Bru. He demanded, "What the fudge are you doing?"
I replied smoothly, "Kian, you tracksuit warrior, you have a camel toe!"
Kian fires back, "Shut it, Paul, you have genital warts!"
John screams, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
He then gives us it so rough I can't walk the next day, but [I] feel pleasured for eternity.
By Lewis
What do you call a bruised banana?
A school bus full of his kids.
One day a fh iufh uig8v cdy ufh pufvbf ufiu pofiu9fh fiv9fd and a ihefipuivbrivbvhbuirhvbifbvirvueuvgevuebvuerevheubyebubv8ub and a uhckebckjebicbevivhcbehvhbeuybvuebvubvbevcb and one uchercvievciouevihevc98f9p8r78797t587t987dbgioubriogbrihj and they all say we are hacks.
One day a local pastor was visiting the home of some parishioners who had a teenage son. The parents were worried about what career their son would choose, so the pastor said he had a simple test that could predict what would become of him.
He would put three objects on a table and let the young man choose whichever one he wanted to have: a Bible, a wallet, and a bottle of scotch. If the boy chose the Bible, he would probably become a priest; if he chose the wallet, he'd be a banker; and if he chose the bottle, he'd become a worthless bum.
So the parents called their son into the room, and the pastor told him he could have whichever object he wished. When the boy promptly picked up all three, the pastor cried out, "Heaven forbid! He's going to be a Jesuit!"
In the realm of words, I shall embark, To craft a verse, both bold and stark, Thomas Bulgin, a name that ignites, A tale of length and moist delights.
Free from the chains of structured rhyme, I wander through this realm, sublime, Thomas Bulgin, a phrase so strange, Evoking thoughts that rearrange.
Long, it stretches, like a winding road, Leading us to depths, yet to be bestowed, In syllables, it dances and it plays, A journey we embark, in myriad ways.
Moist, a word that teems with life, A touch of nature, amidst the strife, It whispers of raindrops on tender leaves, Of dew-kissed petals and gentle heaves.
Thomas Bulgin, a phrase so surreal, Unleashing emotions, that time cannot seal, In this short verse, I strive to convey, A glimpse of what these words might say.
So let us ponder, the mystery untold, Of Thomas Bulgin, both long and bold, For in the realm of poetry's sweet embrace, Even the unusual finds its rightful place.
The FitnessGramTM Pacer Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it continues. The 20-meter pacer test will begin in 30 seconds. Line up at the start. The running speed starts slowly but gets faster each minute after you hear this signal. A single lap should be completed each time you hear this sound. Remember to run in a straight line, and run as long as possible. The second time you fail to complete a lap before the sound, your test is over. The test will begin on the word start. On your mark, get ready, start.
Level 1 Feel it One Two Three Four Five Six Seven; end of level one.
A UN survey asked the following: Please, in your honest opinion, could you give your thoughts on the food shortages in the rest of the world?
It was a failure because:
South Americans don’t know the word “please.”
Eastern Europeans don’t know the word “honest.”
Middle Easterns don’t know the word “opinion.”
Balkans don’t know the word “give.”
Chinese don’t know the word “thoughts.”
Africans don’t know the word “food.”
Western Europeans don’t know the word “shortage.”
Americans don’t know the words “the rest of the world.”
Then they simply explained “just donate healthy food to the global south to help.” But that still didn’t sit right with everyone, because Israelis do not know the word “donate,” and Pacific Islanders do not know the words “healthy food.”
WORLDWIDE RAP: Takin’ a Battery Park tour in Calgary, a Mali rapport and a factory in Lahore in an Annapolis store, Calgary's core, went to Nairobi’s floor and visited Valerie Moore, then bought some Shanghai decor and got salaries in Seoul’s war, studied the Vatican’s lore, wanted to see Manhattan’s allure and visit the Galilee shore to check Napoli’s score, a tragedy in Warsaw, Palmyra before, check out the cavalry corps, went to a Bali resort, a Madrid encore but had to take a Hackney detour.
A Canadian, an American, and a Mexican were tasked by a billionaire with teaching his stubborn pet parrot how to speak within 2 weeks.
They were given everything they needed to succeed, and a large sum of money was offered to the one who made the parrot talk first.
The Canadian played documentaries for the parrot through the whole duration. He spent all his time citing the alphabet and reading stories for the parrot.
The American showered him with the finest food, brought him all the females that he can mate with, and made sure to spoil the parrot as much as he can.
The Mexican locked the parrot in a dark room, barely gave him any food or water, and beat the shit out of him every single day.
When the time was up, the billionaire returned to find the parrot still unable to speak, so he asked the 3 trainers about their progress.
The Canadian goes: "I have tried everything. I spent all my time and energy teaching him the alphabet and reading books to him! Nothing worked."
The American agrees: "I have spoiled him beyond belief, gave him all the luxury he can possibly get, and yet he won't speak!"
The Mexican confirms: "I have showered him with love and luxury as well, tried to teach him words day and night, spent all my time and energy spoiling him with everything I had!"
The parrot looks at the Mexican with disbelief and yells out: "You lying motherfucker!"
Once upon a time, there was a man named Daniel. He was blind and deaf, and he worked at a morgue.
So, one time poor Dan got confused and started having sex with the rotting corpse.
He then came home and thought he was at the morgue, so he started disintegrating his sleeping wife.
Today I explain what things are fake: serial killers, clowns, Billy, fairies, your life, God, Jesus, your mom, and all your crappy fan-fictions about being saved from your even crappier life.
I'm also gonna explain real stuff: YouTube, your dad, scientists, teachers, God, Jesus, and Billy.
Stuff on both is real and fake depending on who you are. Your life IS fake. A lot of idiots will read this.
What do you call a flamingo with 20 toes?
A flamingo.
I went home one day, and three guys—a Spanish guy, a Chinese guy, and a white guy—told me, "You should be proud of your sister. She won a trophy about knowing her flavor of meats." Then my sister told me that I was blindfolded, and she gave all of them a blowjob, and I had to guess which flavor that I was sucking on. I was right all the time, and they gave me a trophy. The Trophy says "Blowjobs of the Flavors." As a brother, I couldn't be prouder.
Shut the fuck up, you fat bitch. You always like to roast others, but you can't walk up the stairs without passing out, you fat, stupid bitch. And I caught you breaking into someone's house just to steal a piece of candy, fat-ass bitch.
What do you call a bunch of autistic kids in a box?
A toolbox.
Why can't an orphan suck my nut?
A girl can, one knows how.
What do you call a banana that can dance?
CHUPAPIMUNYANYO BUISNESS [sic]
What’s an orphan's favorite game?
Hide and seek.