A female secretary was helping her new boss set up his computer and asked him what word he would like to use as a password to log in with. Wanting to embarrass his new secretary a bit and let her know where they stood, he smugly told her to enter ‘penis.’ Without blinking or saying a word, she entered the password. She then almost died laughing at the computer’s response: PASSWORD REJECTED. NOT LONG ENOUGH!
Sensitivity: PG-13
Pg-13 humor, jokes, memes, and questionable punchlines from Chaotic Meh — organized so the algorithm can pretend this place has adult supervision.
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The New Rules
A typical macho man married a typical good-looking lady.
After the wedding, he laid down the following rules:
“I’ll be home when I want, if I want, and at what time I want — and I don’t expect any hassle from you. I expect a great dinner to be on the table unless I tell you that I won’t be home for dinner. I’ll go hunting, fishing, boozing, and card-playing when I want with my old buddies, and don’t you give me a hard time about it. Those are my rules. Any comments?”
His new bride said, “No, that’s fine with me. Just understand that there will be sex here at seven o’clock every night… whether you’re here or not.”
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Frank Feldman
A man steps out onto the street and catches a taxi just as it’s going by. He gets in, and the cabbie says, “Perfect timing. You’re just like Frank.”
“Who?” the passenger asks.
“Frank Feldman,” the cabbie says. “He was a guy who did everything right, all the time. Like me coming along just when you needed a cab. Things like that always happened to Frank Feldman.”
“Well, nobody’s perfect,” the passenger says.
“Not Frank Feldman,” the cabbie replies. “He was a terrific athlete. He could’ve won a Grand Slam in tennis. He could golf with the pros. He sang like an opera baritone and danced like a Broadway star. And you should’ve heard him play piano. He was amazing.”
“Sounds like he was something special,” the passenger says.
“There’s more,” the cabbie continues. “He had a memory like a computer. He remembered everyone’s birthday. He knew all about wine — what to order, which fork to use. He could fix anything. Not like me. I change a fuse, and the whole street goes dark. But Frank Feldman could do everything right.”
“Wow,” says the passenger, “what a guy.”
“And he always knew the fastest route through traffic,” the cabbie adds. “Not like me. I’m always getting stuck. But Frank never made a mistake. And he knew how to treat a woman. He’d never talk back, even if she was wrong. His clothes were always spotless, his shoes polished. The perfect man. Nobody could measure up to Frank Feldman.”
The passenger pauses, then asks, “So how did you meet him?”
The cabbie says, “I never did. He died… and I married his wife.”
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Saturday Night With Ned
My neighbor Ned cornered me in the driveway and grinned like a maniac.
“Oi, come over Saturday night, mate. It’s gonna be mental — bit of drinking, bit of fighting, bit of fucking!”
I lit up. “Hell yeah! What time?”
Ned shrugged, still smiling.
“Don’t matter. It’ll just be you and me.”
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Ill Wait for the State Trooper
In the middle of the night, a retired Marine is driving from Dallas to Houston, while an Army paratrooper is heading from Houston to Dallas. There’s not another car on the highway when they crash head-on, sending both trucks spinning off in opposite directions. Metal crunches, airbags pop, and everything goes silent.
The Marine climbs out of his wrecked pickup, looks at the twisted steel, and shakes his head. “Man… I’m lucky to be alive,” he mutters, brushing himself off. He can’t believe he walked away without a scratch.
The paratrooper crawls out of his SUV and stares at the damage. “I don’t know how I survived that,” he says, looking up at the sky. Both men realize it could’ve been a whole lot worse.
The Marine walks over and says, “You know, maybe this is a sign. Instead of teasing each other about which branch is tougher, maybe we ought to call it even and be friends.”
The paratrooper thinks for a second, then nods. “You’re right. Life’s too short.”
The Marine says, “Let me see if anything else survived.” He checks the back of his truck and finds a full, unopened bottle of good Kentucky bourbon. Holding it up, he grins. “Seems like another sign we should toast to our new friendship.”
“Well, I won’t argue with that,” the paratrooper laughs. He takes the bottle and drinks nearly half of it in one go. Wiping his mouth, he hands it back. “Smooth stuff. Your turn!”
The Marine calmly screws the cap back on the bottle and tucks it under his arm. “Nah,” he says with a smile. “I think I’ll wait for the state trooper.”
