My best joke takes about 15 minutes to tell, sadly. You'll have to come visit to hear it, and will have to put me in a fantastic mood. In the meantime...
Ok kinda not for the religious but
(Catholic) God walks into a bar and orders a bloody mary.
Please don't lynch me
On a lighter note
France
and one last one
If God gave you a choice between suicide and murder wich one would you choose?
Neither there is no room for free will in religion!
Really sorry if I offened anyone. And I'll think of my really good joke tomorrow at school and then come post it here
How many celebrities does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
One to hold it, and the world revolves around them.
Where can you find a no-legged dog?
Right where you left it.
Also, a funny story... I was recently in Queensland, driving through the Daintree, when our tour guide noticed a particular river and began to explain its cultural significance to the area's Aboriginal inhabitants.
She told us that at the base of the river was a sacred female fertility and birthing site, accessible only to the tribe's women, and that the men had a separate area further up the mountain. The Aborigines believed that the water had mystical properties, and that when women bathed in the stream, they became pregnant.
To which I replied: "Well that depends on what the guys were doing upstream."
Josh_v2.0 said:
Not really a joke, nor was it intentional, but hilarious nonetheless.
So I'm sitting in the back of the room while the professor is going on about something, and this guy's sitting in front of me whisper-shouting to someone across the room, "I'm gonna send my niggas after you!" Then he looks at me and confirms that he does indeed have "niggas", to which I reply, "Oh, they still sell those?"
So Anton Chekov walks into the lounge bar of his hotel with a monkey on his shoulder and sees Heinrik Ibsen playing the piano. Not wanting to be rude, he walks over and introduces himself. Ibsen looks at him and says "Nice hotel, isn't it?"
"Oh, it's okay," Chekov. "The towels are kinda scratchy, the beds are too springy, it's like trying to sleep on a trampoline, and the soap makes my skin flake. What about you?"
Ibsen looks him up and down gravely and responds "No soap, Radio..."
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