Be careful

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Twelve Italian priests were about to be ordained.

The final test was for them to lineup in a straight row, totally nude, in a garden while a sexy, beautiful, big breasted, nude model danced before them.

Each priest had a small bell attached to his weenie, and they were told that anyone whose bell rang when she danced in front of them would not be ordained because he had not reached a state of spiritual purity.

The beautiful model danced before the first candidate with no reaction.

She proceeded down the line with the same response from all the priests until she got to the final priest, Carlos.

Poor Carlos. As she danced, his bell began to ring so loudly that it flew off, clattering across the ground and laid to rest in nearby foliage.

Embarrassed, Carlos quickly scrambled to where the bell came to rest. He bent over to pick it up... when all the other bells started to ring.

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Herb decided to propose to Sandy, but prior to her acceptance Sandy felt she had to confess to her man about her childhood illness. She informed Herb that she suffered a disease that left her breasts at the maturity of a 12 year old.

He stated that it was OK because he loved her sooo much. However,
Herb felt this was also the time for him to open up and admit that he had a
deformity too.


Herb looked Sandy in the eyes and said, 'I too have a problem. My winky is the same size as an infant and I hope you can deal with that once we are
married.'

She said, 'Yes, I will marry you and learn to live with your
infant size winky.'


Sandy and Herb got married and they could not wait
for the honeymoon. Herb whisked Sandy off to their hotel suite and they started touching, teasing, and holding one another.

As Sandy put her hands in Herb's pants, she began to scream and ran out of the room! Herb ran after her to find out what was wrong.

She said, 'You told me your winky was the size
of an infant!'

'Yes, it is ... 7 pounds, 8 ounces, 19 inches long.'

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Why I Mow My Own Yard - Lee Trevino.

A true story, you gotta love him.











One day, shortly after joining the PGA tour in 1965, Lee Trevino, a professional golfer and married man, was at his home in Dallas , Texas, mowing his front lawn, as he always did.

A lady driving by in a big, shiny Cadillac stopped in front of his house, lowered the window and asked, “Excuse me, do you speak English?"

Lee responded, “Yes Ma'am, I do."

The lady then asked, “What do you charge to do yard work?”

Lee said, "Well, the lady in this house lets me sleep with her."

The lady hurriedly put the car into gear and sped off

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A jet is making its final approach into St. John's Airport .
The pilot comes on the intercom and announces,
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain.
We're on our final descent into St. John's, Newfoundland .
I want to thank you all for flying with us today and hope you enjoy your stay on "the ROCK.""
He forgets to switch off the intercom.
Now the whole plane can hear his conversation from the cockpit.
The co-pilot can be heard saying to the pilot,
"So, Skip, whatcha got planned while we're on the Rock?"
"Well", says the skipper, "first I'm gonna check into the hotel, take a big crap,
then I'm gonna take that new stewardess with the huge tits out for dinner.
I'm gonna wine and dine her, take her back to my room and give her a ride on the baloney pony all night long."
Aghast and amused, everyone on the plane hears this and immediately begins
looking up and down the aisle, trying to figure out who this new stewardess is that the pilot's talking about.
Meanwhile, the new stewardess is seated at the very back of the plane.
She is so embarrassed that she starts running toward the cockpit to turn the intercom off.
Halfway down the aisle, she trips over an old lady's bag and down she goes.
The old lady leans over and says,
"No need to hurry, dear ... He's gotta land the plane and take a shit first.

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Quebec Explained


A penny saved is not nearly enough!!

Quebec Explained - Only in Canada






In a busy Parisian café,

a Quebecer tourist is sitting alone,

enjoying a crème caramel,

when another tourist approaches.


May I sit here?
No problem...
Thank you, very nice...
Are you on vacation?
Yes, I arrived yesterday...
What country are you from?
Norway. You?
From Quebec.
Quebec? I don't know Quebec...
Quebec... near the Atlantic, next to Ontario, the Great Lakes...
No, I don't know these places.
Never mind then, I'm from Canada...
Ah! Canada! Canada I know! So why you tell me you come from Quebec?
Because, my first country is Quebec!
Oh, you were born in Quebec and immigrated to Canada....
No, no, I was born in Quebec and I stayed in Quebec...
Oh, then your father is from Canada?
No, no, my father, my mother, my wife, my dog, everybody, they come from Quebec....
So why you say Canada?
For Christ sake, because you say you don't know where is Quebec!
OK, but if you say you not know Norway, I not say that my country is Japan...
Shit! Canada isn't Japan. Canada, it's my country.
Oh, your country not Quebec anymore?...
My country is Quebec. But my country, it can be Canada too, if the person I'm speaking to not know where is Quebec, Tabarnak!
I don't understand...
Look, it's simple: I come from the Province of Quebec, in the country of Canada.
Ok! But I didn't ask you what Province you're from, I ask you what Country you're from. Me, I come from Lofoten region in Norway, but I answer you Norway when you ask me what country I come from...
I know, I'm not stupid, Calisse! But me, when they ask me what country I come from, I answer Quebec. Even if it's the name of my Province. For me, it's my Country.
Oh, now I understand. You are a separatist, you want your Quebec province to be your country.
Are you crazy, Hostie? I don't want to know nothing from that shit!
I do not understand anything anymore.
I tell you before, it's simple! You ask me what country I come from, I answered Quebec because Quebec is my country, but I don't really want it to be my country, it would be too much trouble. I just want to say it. So, why don't you just let me say it?
I'm all mixed up. You have passport from what country: Quebec or Canada?
CANADA, Hostie!
So why you not tell me Canada right away?
Because it don't feel right. For me, Canada is Anne Murray, the Calgary Stampede, the Mounted Police, SARS, it's not my home all that. Home, it's La Famille Plouffe, Seraphin Poudrier, La P'tite Vie, Felix Leclerc, La Poune, Les Canadiens de Montreal, Les Bougons... Do you understand???
Less and less...
Listen, forget all that shit. Ask me another question.
Ok, what town you come from?
Mmm..., I don't know anymore...
You not know what town you come from?
Yes, yes, I know what town I come from, but my town it merged with another town, but soon it is going to demerge from the town that was supposed to be my town...
Oh, that very complicated! When you write your address, what do you write?
I don't know anymore. Before, I used to write Hull, but Hull changed to Gatineau, but they tell us to wait 3 years before stopping to write Hull to not mix up the mailman. But now, the Liberals they pass a law that make it okay for Gatineau to be Hull again, but I don't know if we have to wait 3 years to be able to write Hull, or when the 3 years are passed, if we have to write Gatineau for 3 years, and after we write Hull. Unless, of course, the PQ come back in power and we remerge with Gatineau, then we'll have to write Gatineau for 3 years.
I'll leave now; I my head hurts...
It's so simple, Tabarnak: My town is Hull, my country is Quebec. But if you prefer, my town is Gatineau and my country is Canada.
OK, I think I understand!
It's about time. Anyway, it was fun talking to you, if you come around where I live; maybe you come and see me...
OK, but where? Hull in Quebec or Gatineau in Canada?
You're a pain in the ass. Forget the whole thing….


*That, my friends, is the most accurate portrait of Quebec that you will ever get!*

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Two married buddies are out drinking one night when one turns to the other and says, "You know, I don't know what else to do. Whenever I go home after we've been out drinking, I turn the headlights off before I get to the driveway. I shut off the engine and coast into the garage. I take my shoes off before I go into the house, I sneak up the stairs, I get undressed in the bathroom. I ease into bed and my wife STILL wakes up and yells at me for staying out so late!"

His buddy looks at him and says, "Well, you're obviously taking the wrong approach. I screech into the driveway, slam the door, storm up the steps, throw my shoes into the closet, jump into bed, rub my hands on my wife's ass and say, 'How about a quickie?' ....and she's always sound asleep."

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