Longing jokes
I asked my mum why she’s depressed, she said her life has been a wreck. I asked how long has it been, she then asked when I was born.
FICTIONAL BOOKS / AUTHORS
Why Should I Walk? By Iona Carr.
What Lonely Girls Should Do By Seymour Fellowes.
Unusual Window Decorations By Rod Curtains.
The Long Walk Home By Misty Bus.
Race to the Outhouse By Willie Makit and Illustrated by Betty Wont.
Life is like a box of chocolates. It doesn't last as long for fat people.
A nun, badly needing to use the restroom, walked into a local Hooters. The place was hopping with music and loud conversation and every once in a while "the lights would turn off."
Each time the lights would go out, the place would erupt into cheers.
However, when the revelers saw the nun, the room went dead silent.
She walked up to the bartender and asked, "May I please use the restroom?"
The bartender replied, "OK, but I should warn you that there is a statue of a naked man in there wearing only a fig leaf."
"Well, in that case, I'll just look the other way," said the nun.
So the bartender showed the nun to the back of the restaurant.
After a few minutes, she came back out, and the whole place stopped just long enough to give the nun a loud round of applause!
She went to the bartender and said, "Sir, I don't understand. Why did they applaud for me just because I went to the restroom?"
"Well, now they know you're one of us," said the bartender, "Would you like a drink?"
"No thank you, but, I still don't understand," said the puzzled nun.
"You see," laughed the bartender, "every time someone lifts the fig leaf on that statue, the lights go out."
Now, how about that drink?
What did the dog say when he came home from a long shift at work? Today was ruff.
I get knocked down, but I get up again, as long as I have 46 chromosomes.
Life is like a box of chocolates. It doesn’t last as long for fat people.
Gwen, please just come back. I love you and I miss you so much!
What do you call a very long bowl?
Manute Bowl.
If possible, I refrain from brunching celebrities. My path is smooth. The table receives the branching.
When I arrived at my friend's house and, after a long time, I was given permission to pick from the branches and graze the dog, I agreed. Then the work begins. "No, no money," I replied, "that's why I'm a burden to the world that hurts me."
And when I told them, they told me and said they were there. If I had a job, I would be fired on the first day for bad behavior. The best solution is to avoid this situation.
It's too long, sorry. >:)
What did the fish say to the beach?
"Long tide, no see!"
Raju: How about you, Sunil?
Do you know?
Sanju: Sunil is my long distance
is a brother.
Raju: Long brother?
Sanju: Yes, because I live in Ratnagiri and he lives in Nagpur.
Ok, ok, who is trying to be my "long lost brother"? Because last time I checked, I didn't have any sisters or brothers, so stop trying to steal my fame from me and give up. A lot of other people already know you are fake, so get off this website OR JUST STOP!!!
If anyone can see Alya KUHL please tell me! I love and miss her...
Why can’t a nose be 12 feet long?
Because then, it would be a foot.
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.
In fields of gold, where sunshine beams, Monkeys swing and play, it's their dreams. Their fur so soft, their eyes so bright, Picking cotton with delight.
Their little hands so quick and neat, Plucking the cotton, can't be beat. They chatter and laugh, they dance and play, In the fields all day, they'll stay.
Their tails so long, their ears so big, They're quite the sight, it's quite a gig. They're busy as can be, you see, In the fields of cotton, they're free.
So let us marvel at these little thieves, In the fields of gold, they give and receive. Their antics bring us joy and delight, In the fields of cotton, they're always right.
During Covid, lockdown went on for so long that even the agoraphobics got cabin fever.
How long is it?