Tone: irreverent

Irreverent humor, jokes, memes, and punchlines sorted by emotional damage level from Chaotic Meh — organized so the algorithm can pretend this place has adult supervision.

  • What Her Drink Says About Her

    Seven New York City bartenders were asked if they could nail a woman’s personality based on what she drinks. Though interviewed separately, they concurred on almost all counts. The results:

    Clean Mode hides the spicy parts.
    Unleash Chaos

    Drink: Beer
    Personality: Casual, low-maintenance; down to earth.
    Your Approach: Challenge her to a game of pool.

    Drink: Blender Drinks
    Personality: Flaky, annoying; a pain in the ass.
    Your Approach: Avoid her, unless you want to be her cabin boy.

    Drink: Mixed Drinks
    Personality: Older, has picky taste; knows what she wants.
    Your Approach: You won’t have to approach her. She’ll send YOU a drink.

    Drink: Wine (does not include white zinfandel, see below)
    Personality: Conservative and classy, sophisticated.
    Your Approach: Tell her you wish Reagan had had four more years… Alzheimer’s and term limits be damned.

    Drink: White Zin
    Personality: Easy; thinks she is classy and sophisticated, actually has no clue.
    Your Approach: Make her feel smarter than she is…

    Drink: Shots
    Personality: Hanging with frat-boy pals or looking to get drunk… and naked.
    Your Approach: Easiest hit in the joint. Nothing to do but wait.

  • So How Many Does It Take

    Joe is having a drink in his local bar when in walks this gorgeous woman. Joe, not being too shy, goes up and sits next to her. He buys her a drink and then another and then another. After this and the accompanying small talk, Joe asks her back to his place for a “good time.”

    “Look,” says the woman, “what do you think I am? I don’t turn into a slut after three drinks, you know!”

    “OK,” replies Joe, “so how many does it take?”

  • Signs You Have a Drinking Problem

    You lose arguments with inanimate objects.

    You have to hold onto the lawn to keep from falling off the earth.

    Job interfering with your drinking.

    Your doctor finds traces of blood in your alcohol stream.

    Career won’t progress beyond Senator from Massachusetts.

    The back of your head keeps getting hit by the toilet seat.

    Sincerely believe alcohol to be the elusive fifth food group.

    Twenty-four hours in a day, twenty-four beers in a case. Coincidence?? I think not!

    Two hands and just one mouth … now THAT’S a drinking problem!

    You can focus better with one eye closed.

    The parking lot seems to have moved while you were in the bar.

    Every person you see has an exact twin.

    You fall off the floor.

    Your twin sons are named Barley and Hops.

    Hey, five beers has just as many calories as a burger — to heck with dinner!

    The glass keeps missing your mouth.

    Bill Clinton starts to make sense….

    Mosquitoes catch a buzz* after biting you. (*No pun intended.)

    At an AA meeting you begin: “Hi, my name is … uh …”

    Your idea of cutting back is less salt.

    The whole bar says ‘Hi’ when you come in.

    “Hi ocifer. I’m not under the affluence of incohol.”

    Roseanne looks good.

    Don’t recognize wife unless seen through bottom of glass.

    Senators Kennedy and Packwood shake their heads when they walk past you.

    You have a reserved parking space at the liquor store.

    You wake up in Korea in August and the last thing you remember is the Fourth of July party at the Halekulani in Waikiki.

    “BeerTender! Get me another Bar!”

    The shrubbery’s drunk too — from frequent watering.

  • Dear Alcohol

    Dear Alcohol,

    I thought I’d take a minute to discuss some troubling factors with you.

    First and foremost, let me tell you that I’m a huge fan of yours… your many sides and dimensions are mind-boggling (different than beer goggling, which I’ll touch upon shortly.)

    Yes, my friend, you always seem to be there when needed — the perfect post-work cocktail, a beer with the gang… and you’re even around in the holidays — hidden inside chocolates, you warm us when we’re stuck in the midst of endless family gatherings.

    Yet lately, I’ve been wondering about your intentions. You see, I want to believe that you have my best interests at heart, but I feel that your influence has led to unwise consequences, briefed below for your review:

    1. Phone calls: While I agree with you that communication is important, I question the suggestion that any conversation of substance or necessity occurs at 5 a.m.

    2. Eating: Now, you know I love a good meal and, though cooking is far from my speciality, why you suggested that I eat a kebab with chilli sauce coupled with a pot noodle and some stale crisps (washed down with chocolate Nesquik and topped off with a Kit Kat) is beyond me. Eclectic eater I am, but I think you went a bit too far this time.

    3. Clumsiness: Unless you’re subtly trying to tell me I need to do yoga more to increase my balance, I see no need to hammer the issue home by causing me to fall down the stairs. Completely unnecessary. Similarly, it should not take me more than thirty seconds to get the key into the front door lock.

    4. Pictures: This is a blessing in disguise, as it can often clarify the last point below, but the following costumes are heretofore banned from being placed on my head in public: Indian wigs, sombreros, bows, ties, boxes, upside-down cups, inflatable balloon animals, traffic cones, bras.

    5. Beer goggles: If I think I may know him/her from somewhere, I most likely do not. Please do not request that I go over and see if, in fact, I do actually know that person. This is similar to the old “Hey, you’re in my class” syndrome circa 1986 at SU, and should heretofore be rendered illegal. Coupled with this is the phrase “Let’s shag.” While I may be thinking this, please reinstate the brain-to-mouth block that would keep this thought from being a statement, especially in public.

    Further, the subsequent hangovers have got to stop. Now, I know a little penance for our previous evenings’ debauchery may be in order, but the 2 p.m. Hangover Immobility is completely unacceptable. I ask that if the proper steps are proactively taken on my part (i.e. water, vitamin B, bread products, aspirin) prior to going to bed/passing out facedown on the kitchen floor with a bag of popcorn, the hangover should be quite minimal and in no way interfere with my daily Saturday or Sunday (or any day, for that matter) activities. Come on now… it’s only fair — you do your part, I’ll do mine.

    Alcohol, I have enjoyed our relationship for some years now, and want to ensure that we remain on good terms. You’ve been the invoker of great stories, the provocation for much laughter, and the needed companion when we just don’t know what to do with the extra money in our pockets. In order to continue this relationship, I ask that you carefully review my grievances above and address them immediately. I will look for an answer no later than Friday at 6 p.m. (pre happy hour) on your possible solutions, and hopefully we can continue this fruitful partnership.

    Thank you for your prompt attention to these matters.

    Sincerely, your biggest fan.

  • Still Smells Fresh

    Still Smells Fresh

    Still smells fresh

    Tide

  • Taking It Harder

    My family recently discovered our granddad has a Viagra addiction.

    No one is taking it harder than grandma.

  • The Three FBI Agents

    There were three recruits that were on their way up the ranks after joining the FBI for top-ranking officers. There was one final test for them to do before they were chosen to officially join the top ranks, and if they failed, they would not be chosen for the prestigious position.

    Clean Mode hides the spicy parts.
    Unleash Chaos

    So there were three doors, and the commander explains what each of them needs to do. He says, “Behind the door with your name on it is each one of your wives, and for the final test you must go in that room — there will be a gun sitting on the table — and you need to kill your wife.”

    There is an awkward silence for a few minutes before the first guy goes in the room with his name on it. A few minutes later, he comes bursting out of there crying, “I can’t do it! I just can’t do it!” He hands the gun to the commander and walks away.

    The second guy goes into the room with his name on it, and he’s in there for a little bit longer. He calmly comes out of the room, hands the commander his gun, and says, “Nope, can’t do it.”

    So the third guy goes in the room with his name on it, and he’s in there for quite a while. And then all of a sudden everyone outside the door hears “BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!” then “click, click, click, click,” and then they hear what sounds like a struggle. A few minutes later, the third guy comes out and says, “God damn it, somebody put blanks in this gun, so I had to take off my jacket and strangle the bitch.”

  • You’re Next

    Old people at weddings always poke me and say, “You’re next.”

    So I started doing the same thing to them at funerals.

  • Me Too Ice Cream

    Me Too Ice Cream

    Me too ice cream, me too

    Made to be licked, topped, and loved

    Jeni’s makes it better.

  • Whoever Smelt It Dealt It

    Whoever Smelt It Dealt It

    Cop: ur car smells like marijuana

    Me: whoever smelt it dealt it

    Cop: gosh dangit

    Me: ur under arrest