New Sometimes Jokes - Page 5 - Worst Jokes Ever

Sometimes I get jealous when my phone dies.

Sometimes I feel ugly, but then I think of my sister.

I put my leg up in the air sometimes, singing ayo, I'm a flamingo...

I sometimes want rampage, but what good would that do?

I look for a way out, but there's not even a light shining through.

The times where all is dark, are the times that I need a mark.

Though people say that nobody will care, the truth is: there's always one who's fair.

That person may not be the one you expect, but I am here with a passion to redirect.

Once there was a time where I tried to end it all, because I only looked on the dark side.

Truth was I wanted to be heard, to be respected, to let someone know.

But that was in the past and this isn't about my dark ride, it's time for others to know that only a few words, can extinguish a glow.

Sometimes I have this incredible urge to grab a child from school and yell, "I'm you from the future!"

What's both red, white and sometimes purple?

My arms...

Doin' your mom, doin', doin' your mom Doin' your mom, doin', doin' your mom Doin', doin' your mom, doin', doin' your mom You know we straight with doin' your mom I like your mama's big butt, and I cannot lie. You other brothers can’t deny that she’s fly. We make sexy time, yes and every night I tap that. She saw me butt-naked, now she thinks I’m half black. But your moms the best, the super M.I.L.F. Cause she loves to toss the salad even though she ain’t a chef And I blame it on the al-al-al-cohol But if I were you, I wouldn’t kiss your mom on the mouth at all. She likes the Donkey-Punch. She likes the Dirty Sanchez. Sometimes she even likes to fool around in your bed. She likes rough sex with handcuffs and I’ll be honest She likes me to Chris Brown her when she acts like Rihanna. She’s so therapeutic. When I need to cure my restlessness I br-br-br-br-br-br-br-br motorboat your moms breastestess. I didn’t wanna tell you, but I had to write this song Cause I’m in your house every night doin' your mo-om.

Doin' your mom, doin', doin' your mom Doin' your mom, doin', doin' your mom Doin', doin' your mom, doin', doin' your mom You know we straight with doin' your mom Doin' your mom, doin', doin' your mom Doin' your mom, doin', doin' your mom Doin', doin' your mom, doin', doin' your mom You know we straight with doin' your mom

I’m havin' sex with your mother That makes me better than you. I’m havin' sex with your mother That makes me better than you.

She likes the Donkey-Punch. She likes the Dirty Sanchez. Sometimes she even likes to fool around in your bed!

Sometimes I wish my gf was here, that way we could have some fun in my bed. Then I realize she's right across the hall. (SWEET HOME ALABAMA)!!

Reporter: "Excuse me, may I interview you?"

Man: "Yes!"

Reporter: "Name?"

Man: "Abdul Al-Rhazim."

Reporter: "Sex?"

Man: "Three to five times a week."

Reporter: "No no! I mean male or female?"

Man: "Yes, male, female... sometimes camel."

Reporter: "Holy cow!"

Man: "Yes, cow, sheep... animals in general."

Reporter: "But isn't that hostile?"

Man: "Yes, horse style, dog style, any style."

Reporter: "Oh dear!"

Man: "No, no deer. Deer run too fast. Hard to catch."

Yo' mama sometimes always happens to let you know you're back in New York -- like the way people order in a restaurant: "Could you take my order before Jesus gets back? What's the matter with you? I've evolved into another species here, you understand? I can't eat clam chowder no more. I gotta see the cyborg menu, you understand?"

People sometimes ask me why I cut myself. I usually answer that at least I can scan my worth at the supermarket.

Me: Why did the bus drop his ice cream?

Sanity to live: I don't know?

Me: He was run over by Timmy!!!

Sanity to live? *dies*

Me: *At edge of bridge* Wow, sweet view.

Sanity to live: *resurrected*

Narrator: Sometimes a bridge is all you need...

(sponsored by jumping bridges)

Sometimes, stairs get me down.

Sometimes you just need to take a drive through the city to clear your head.

-JFK

Why did the chicken cross the road?

Because the chicken had 4 chicks and a cheating hen who all sucked out all his money he got from his extremely boring job, and he finally got some peace for himself and was going to the local bar, which was on the other side of the road.

He walked in the door, wings sagging, feathers catching on his claws. The bartender eyes him as he sits on a bar stool. "Chuck, how ya doin'? The missus doin' good?"

"Just give me the hardest stuff you got. I'm done."

This caught the bartender by surprise. "Chuck, come on, don't be sayin' that. Just look to the future and you'll be fine."

"What future?" Chuck replied in a huff. "My wife and chicks are so goddamn pestering sometimes, you know? But if I leave, they'll all suffer, and I don't want that either. Oh, God, Phil, I don't know what to do."

"You know, you've got a good heart for a rooster your age," Phil answered. "We need that in these parts. I'm tellin' ya, there will be more than what's happenin' right now, ya know, life's got all its gears turning for ya, and there's just a bit slow right now. The gears haven't been oiled in a while, but who's the only one who can fix that?"

Chuck knew the answer. "Me."

Phil returned with his drink. "McClucken's Whiskey, on the house."

Chuck glanced at his glass. He held it up to the light. His face reflected in an aura around it, neither looking forward to the light and not backward, either.

"No thanks, Phil," Chuck sighed, "But thanks anyways."

He went to get up out of his chair. Phil called as he walked out the door, "Just remember to oil the gears every now and then, eh?"

Chuck's comb flapped in a cool breeze brought in by the season. A bench was nearby, staring across to the other side. And he just sat there, sat there thinking. Cars blurred to a colorfully colorless nothingness as he thought in silence.

He could see an open window in his mind, full of chickens: a sassy hen, two identical sportish chick; another, older than the two, and body bristling with blue comb-dye and the latest thing he watched online fresh on his Chickstagram page; finally, the first of the bunch, shy, bookish, with a secretly courageous soul. They all looked... worried, worried for the rooster who guided them, helped them grow, supported them... and all looking out of the window back at him.

A single tear welled in Chuck's eye.

The chicken walked back across the road to his family, to his friends, and to the life he was content with.

I love fire. My friends love it too. When I set them on fire, they run around and scream. They sometimes get so tired they immediately fall asleep forever. Also, they need a shower.

"Well," he says, "It's what mommy calls me sometimes."

The little girl screams, "Don't eat it! It's a fucking asshole."

Father and mother are making love in the bedroom. Mother is on top of father. Suddenly, the son enters the bedroom. Everyone is embarrassed, of course.

The next morning, the mother takes the little boy aside and says, "I'll tell you about what you saw yesterday. You know, Dad has a big belly, and that's why Mom sometimes sits on top of that belly to push it flat." The little boy says, "But Mama, that does not make any difference." "Oh no?" the mom asks. "No," says the little boy, "When you go to work, the neighbor comes, and she puts herself on her knees for Dad, and she blows his belly up again!"