Anecdotal comedy formats, jokes, memes, and punchlines organized for easier doom-scrolling from Chaotic Meh — organized so the algorithm can pretend this place has adult supervision.
This guy is nearing the end of his senior year in high school. Unfortunately he still has to share a room with his younger brother who is about 9 years old. One night, he decides to bring his girlfriend home for a little fun. They have bunk beds and the guy notices that his little brother is already asleep on the lower bunk, so he and his gal climb up to the top bunk.
My girlfriend surprised me the other day by suggesting we should have makeup sex, then for some reason she screamed and slammed the door on me when I showed up in my Gene Simmons KISS costume. Needless to say, we’re fighting again.
A grandfather went to visit his college-age grandson at the dorm. Grandpa was astonished to find that his son was living a life of sin and corruption, as shown by the very high-heeled shoe nailed over the doorway.
In my day, grumbled Gramps, we would hang a horse shoe over the door for luck and then study late into the night hoping to pass our classes.
But grandpa, replied the grandson, that is a whore’s shoe.
As the F-14 screamed through the desert air, the pilot eyed the rising launcher ramps and wondered yet again if the missile sites were a genuine threat or merely happy to see him.
I told one of my HMO patients to go get a tonsillectomy, and now he’s mad because he thought I said “appendectomy” and got his appendix removed instead. I guess I should really look into getting my drive-thru speaker fixed.
Two gay men are beach walking, holding hands when a beautiful woman passes them. She’s 5’10”, 38-24-36, with a string bikini on and no tan lines!
The first gay man turns to his friend, sighs audibly, and in a breathless whisper says, “It’s women like her that sometimes make me wish I was a Lesbian!”
I often wonder if I would be in my current profession if I hadn’t developed my delicate hand-eye skills as a child playing “Operation.” Probably not, since the boss would have fired me long ago for ruining all those keyboards because of stray peanut bits falling off of my Salted Nut Roll.
Well, another election in my household has passed and the results are in: The Sex-Every-Sunday Referendum was defeated soundly, 1000-1. I knew agreeing to the 500-vote-per-boob Electoral College would come back to haunt me.
I knew a girl at work once who was truly concerned about her husband’s smoking. She told me that she had finally gotten him to agree to limit his smoking at home to only those times when they had finished making love.
She had gotten the idea from a classic movie they had both seen on TV called “Cold Turkey.”
After about a week, I asked her how it was going.
“Well, not too bad,” she said, getting up off of a pillow she had in her chair and limping towards the photocopy machine.
“I’ve gotten him down to about a pack a night now.”
