Anecdotal jokes, punchlines, setups, and comedy bits from Chaotic Meh — sorted for people who know exactly what kind of bad idea they want.
A long, long time ago, when I was nineteen or twenty, I went to a bar with an older friend. The guy at the door asked for my ID. I gave him my driver’s license, which of course had my date of birth printed on it.
He looked at it and said, “You have to be twenty-one to get in here.”
I replied, “That ID is a few years old.”
He looked at it again for a moment, then said, “Oh, OK” and let me in.
A seven-year-old girl tells her mom, “Little Johnny asked me to play doctor today.”
“Oh, dear,” the mother says nervously. “What happened, honey?”
And the little girl says, “Not much. He made me sit in a chair for forty-five minutes and then double-billed the insurance company.”
A man and his wife are awakened at three o’clock in the morning by a loud pounding on the door. The man gets up and goes to the door where a drunken stranger, standing in the pouring rain, is asking for a push.
“Not a chance,” says the husband. “It is three o’clock in the morning!” He slams the door and returns to bed.
“Who was that?” asked his wife.
“Just some drunk guy asking for a push,” he answers.
“Did you help him?” she asks.
“No, I did not. It is three in the morning and it is pouring out!” says the husband.
“Well, you have a short memory,” says his wife. “Can’t you remember about three months ago when we broke down and those two guys helped us? I think you should help him, and you should be ashamed of yourself!”
The man agrees, gets dressed, and goes out into the pounding rain. He calls out into the dark, “Hello, are you still there?”
“Yes,” comes back the answer.
“Do you still need a push?” calls out the husband.
“Yes, please!” comes the reply from the dark.
“Where are you?” asks the husband.
“Over here on the swing!” replied the drunk.
A couple of drinkin’ buddies who are airplane mechanics are out at SFO and it’s fogged in and they have nothing to do. And one of them says to the other, “Man, have you got anything to drink?”
“Nah, but I hear you can drink jet fuel — that’ll kinda give you a buzz.”
So they do, and they get smashed and have a beautiful time, like only drinkin’ buddies can do. The following morning, one of them wakes up and just knows his head is going to explode when he gets up. He knows it. It doesn’t. He gets up, it feels good — in fact he feels great. NO hangover!
The phone rings. It’s his buddy.
The buddy says, “Hey, how do you feel?”
And he says, “I feel great!”
And the buddy says, “I feel great too! You don’t have a hangover?”
And he says, “No — that jet fuel is great stuff — no hangover — we ought to do this more often.”
And he goes, “Yeah, we could. There’s just one thing…”
He says, “What’s that?”
And he says, “Did you fart yet?”
“What??”
“Did you fart yet??”
“No…”
And the buddy says, “Well, don’t, ’cause I’m in Phoenix!”
Late one Friday night the policeman spotted a man driving very erratically through the streets of Dublin. They pulled the man over and asked him if he had been drinking that evening.
“Aye, so I have. ’Tis Friday, you know, so me and the lads stopped by the pub where I had six or seven pints. And then there was something called ‘Happy Hour’ and they served these mar-gar-itos which are quite good. I had four or five o’ those. Then I had to drive me friend Mike home and o’ course I had to go in for a couple of Guinness — couldn’t be rude, ye know. Then I stopped on the way home to get another bottle for later…”
And the man fumbled around in his coat until he located his bottle of whiskey, which he held up for inspection.
The officer sighed and said, “Sir, I’m afraid I’ll need you to step out of the car and take a breathalyzer test.”
Indignantly, the man said, “Why? Don’t ye believe me?!?”
