mexican smuggler
Juan comes up to the Mexican border on his bicycle. He's got two large bags over his shoulders.
The guard stops him and says, "What's in the bags?" "Sand," answered Juan. The guard says, "We'll just see about that get off the bike." The guard takes the bags and rips them apart; he empties them out and finds nothing in them but sand.
He detains Juan overnight and has the sand analyzed, only to discover that there is nothing but pure sand in the bags. The guard releases Juan, puts the sand into new bags, hefts them onto the man's shoulders, and lets him cross the border. A week later, the same thing happens. The guard asks, "What have you got?" "Sand," says Juan. The guard does his thorough examination and discovers that the bags contain nothing but sand.He gives the sand back to Juan, and Juan crosses the border on his bicycle. This sequence of events if repeated every day for three years. Finally, Juan doesn't show up one day and the guard meets him in a Cantina in Mexico. "Hey, Buddy," says the guard, "I know you are smuggling something. It's driving me crazy. It's all I think about..... I can't sleep. Just between you and me, what are you smuggling?" Juan sips his beer and says, "Bicycles."
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The guard stops him and says, "What's in the bags?" "Sand," answered Juan. The guard says, "We'll just see about that get off the bike." The guard takes the bags and rips them apart; he empties them out and finds nothing in them but sand.
He detains Juan overnight and has the sand analyzed, only to discover that there is nothing but pure sand in the bags. The guard releases Juan, puts the sand into new bags, hefts them onto the man's shoulders, and lets him cross the border. A week later, the same thing happens. The guard asks, "What have you got?" "Sand," says Juan. The guard does his thorough examination and discovers that the bags contain nothing but sand.He gives the sand back to Juan, and Juan crosses the border on his bicycle. This sequence of events if repeated every day for three years. Finally, Juan doesn't show up one day and the guard meets him in a Cantina in Mexico. "Hey, Buddy," says the guard, "I know you are smuggling something. It's driving me crazy. It's all I think about..... I can't sleep. Just between you and me, what are you smuggling?" Juan sips his beer and says, "Bicycles."
who's egg is this?
There was once a Scotsman and an Englishman who lived next door to each other. The Scotsman owned a hen and each morning would look in his garden and pick up one of his hen's eggs for breakfast. One day he looked into his garden and saw that the hen had laid an egg in the Englishman's garden. He was about to go next door when he saw the Englishman pick up the egg. The Scotsman ran up to the Englishman and told him that the egg belonged to him because he owned the hen. The Englishman disagreed because the egg was laid on his property.
"In my family," the Scotsman said, "we normally solve disputes by the following actions: I kick you in the balls and time how long it takes you to get back up. Then you kick me in the balls and time how long it takes for me to get up. Whoever gets up quicker wins the egg." The Englishman agreed to this and so the Scotsman found his heaviest pair of boots kicked the Englishman as hard as he could in the balls. The Englishman fell to the floor clutching his nuts and howled in agony for 30 minutes. Eventually the Englishman stood up and said, "Now it's my turn to kick you."
"Keep the goddamn egg."
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"In my family," the Scotsman said, "we normally solve disputes by the following actions: I kick you in the balls and time how long it takes you to get back up. Then you kick me in the balls and time how long it takes for me to get up. Whoever gets up quicker wins the egg." The Englishman agreed to this and so the Scotsman found his heaviest pair of boots kicked the Englishman as hard as he could in the balls. The Englishman fell to the floor clutching his nuts and howled in agony for 30 minutes. Eventually the Englishman stood up and said, "Now it's my turn to kick you."
"Keep the goddamn egg."
top 20 signs it's a bad day
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- You wake up face down on the pavement.
- You put your bra on backwards and it fits better.
- You call Suicide Prevention and they put you on hold.
- You see a '60 minutes' news team waiting in your office.
- Your birthday cake collapses from the weight of the candles.
- You want to put on the clothes you wore home from the party and there aren't any.
- You turn on the news and they're showing emergency routes out of the city.
- Your twin sister forgot your birthday.
- You wake up and discover your waterbed broke and then realize that you don't have a waterbed.
- Your car horn goes off accidentally and remains stuck as you follow a group of Hell's Angels on the freeway.
- Your wife wakes up feeling amorous and you have a headache.
- Your boss tells you not to bother to take off your coat.
- The bird singing outside your window is a buzzard.
- You wake up and your braces are locked together.
- You walk to work and find your dress is stuck in the back of your pantyhose.
- Your blind date turns out to be your ex.
- Your paycheck bounces.
- You put both contact lenses in the same eye.
- Your pet rock snaps at you.
- Your wife says, 'Good morning, Bill' and your name is George.
one side of a phone call between james bond...
Hallo? Is this Giganta? Giganta Crotchetta?
Oh, grand! It's Bond.
James Bond? O07?
Shaken not stirred? Tuxedo? The trunk-sized jet pack? We had a run in with an Austrian terrorist with the overdeveloped reptilian brain and a predilection for man-eating octopi launching bazookas?
Well, contacting you took quite a bit of doing actually. You see, first I tried Giganta Crotchetta. I must have looked in every phone directory that MI-6 could hack into. Then I figured out that Giganta might be a code name. I mean, who has the name Giganta Crotchetta? Rather silly, when you think about it?
Yes, yes I suppose you do like it. Anyway, I recalled that I kept one of your garments – your knickers actually. And there it was. "Honey Rider" is a much prettier and commonplace name. You should use that.
Ah, yes. The, uh... point. Well, it seems that... well, there's no delicate way to put this. I have a rather nasty case of syphilis. And, um, I'm calling all my sexual partners to let them know that they should go get tested.
Uh-huh. Right. I know it was ten years ago. But the syphilis is rather unusual.
Well, it has gonorrhea.
Yes, my syphilis has gonorrhea.
And the gonorrhea has lice. And the lice have some undiscovered disease that's kind of between hemorrhagic fever and the mumps. It's a virulent mutant strand developed by Dr. No-Means-Yes during Mission: "The Russian Spy Who Loved To Thunderball Me."
Yes, I know I said I had a condom. But you see all the condoms I had were made by Q, and apparently, the condoms weren't meant to be condoms -- they were designed to be used as a pocket parachute. Good man. If you need to have your stapler work as a gun, he's your boy. Anyway, you didn't notice because while we were passionately embraced, your tongue accidentally trigged my knockout gas tooth and you, um, drifted off to sleep. But trust me, you enjoyed yourself. They all do.
Anyway, with all the rather bizarre ailments my, um, bizarre ailments have, the doctors have advised me to contact everyone in my sexual history about my condition. No small feat, I assure you. If you saw the list, you'd think I'd been having sex with my fellow spies for 50 years!
Well, this is what the doctors suggest. Right now, I am in a remote island facility. Actually there's no facility. Just an island. And me. But they'e building one as soon as they can find enough hazmat suits. Anyway, a helicopter is going to pick you up and bring you to the island where we can be treated in isolation.
Chin up! Look at it this way: it'll give us a chance to get caught up. And maybe once some of the redness goes down, along with some of the greenness and the larvae, we can do some REAL reminiscing.
"Oh, James." What's that supposed to mean?
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Oh, grand! It's Bond.
James Bond? O07?
Shaken not stirred? Tuxedo? The trunk-sized jet pack? We had a run in with an Austrian terrorist with the overdeveloped reptilian brain and a predilection for man-eating octopi launching bazookas?
Well, contacting you took quite a bit of doing actually. You see, first I tried Giganta Crotchetta. I must have looked in every phone directory that MI-6 could hack into. Then I figured out that Giganta might be a code name. I mean, who has the name Giganta Crotchetta? Rather silly, when you think about it?
Yes, yes I suppose you do like it. Anyway, I recalled that I kept one of your garments – your knickers actually. And there it was. "Honey Rider" is a much prettier and commonplace name. You should use that.
Ah, yes. The, uh... point. Well, it seems that... well, there's no delicate way to put this. I have a rather nasty case of syphilis. And, um, I'm calling all my sexual partners to let them know that they should go get tested.
Uh-huh. Right. I know it was ten years ago. But the syphilis is rather unusual.
Well, it has gonorrhea.
Yes, my syphilis has gonorrhea.
And the gonorrhea has lice. And the lice have some undiscovered disease that's kind of between hemorrhagic fever and the mumps. It's a virulent mutant strand developed by Dr. No-Means-Yes during Mission: "The Russian Spy Who Loved To Thunderball Me."
Yes, I know I said I had a condom. But you see all the condoms I had were made by Q, and apparently, the condoms weren't meant to be condoms -- they were designed to be used as a pocket parachute. Good man. If you need to have your stapler work as a gun, he's your boy. Anyway, you didn't notice because while we were passionately embraced, your tongue accidentally trigged my knockout gas tooth and you, um, drifted off to sleep. But trust me, you enjoyed yourself. They all do.
Anyway, with all the rather bizarre ailments my, um, bizarre ailments have, the doctors have advised me to contact everyone in my sexual history about my condition. No small feat, I assure you. If you saw the list, you'd think I'd been having sex with my fellow spies for 50 years!
Well, this is what the doctors suggest. Right now, I am in a remote island facility. Actually there's no facility. Just an island. And me. But they'e building one as soon as they can find enough hazmat suits. Anyway, a helicopter is going to pick you up and bring you to the island where we can be treated in isolation.
Chin up! Look at it this way: it'll give us a chance to get caught up. And maybe once some of the redness goes down, along with some of the greenness and the larvae, we can do some REAL reminiscing.
"Oh, James." What's that supposed to mean?
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