<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160</id><updated>2011-04-21T17:42:46.742-07:00</updated><category term='Dolly Parton and the Queen'/><title type='text'>A Selection of Jokes</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>32</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-4718620808783882112</id><published>2008-03-20T04:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T04:51:15.281-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Bike for Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;On Christmas morning a cop on horseback is sitting at a traffic light, and next to him is a kid on his shiny new bike. The cop says to the kid, "Nice bike you got there. Did Santa bring that to you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid replies, "Yeah."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cop says, "Well, next year tell Santa to put a tail-light on that bike."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cop then proceeds to issue the kid a $20.00 bicycle safety violation ticket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid takes the ticket and before he rides off says, "By the way, that's a nice horse you got there. Did Santa bring that to you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Humoring the kid, the cop says, "Yeah, he sure did."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid continued, "Well, next year tell Santa to put the dick underneath the horse, instead of on top." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-4718620808783882112?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/4718620808783882112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=4718620808783882112' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/4718620808783882112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/4718620808783882112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/03/new-bike-for-christmas.html' title='New Bike for Christmas'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-1635706400933215487</id><published>2008-03-18T08:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T08:49:05.654-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Farting in Bed</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;This is a story about a couple who had been happily married for years. The only friction in their marriage was the husband's habit of farting loudly every morning when he awoke.&lt;br /&gt;The noise would wake his wife and the smell would make her eyes water and make her gasp for air.&lt;br /&gt;Every morning she would plead with him to stop ripping them off because it was making her sick. He told her he couldn't stop and that it was perfectly natural. She told him to see a doctor. She was concerned that one day he would blow his guts out.&lt;br /&gt;The years went by and he continued to rip them out! Then one Thanksgiving morning as she was preparing the turkey for dinner and he was upstairs sound asleep, she looked at the bowl where she had put the turkey innards and neck, gizzard, liver and all the spare parts and a malicious thought came to her.&lt;br /&gt;She took the bowl and went upstairs where her husband was sound asleep and, gently pulling back the bed covers, she pulled back the elastic waistband of his underpants and emptied the bowl of turkey guts into his shorts.&lt;br /&gt;Some time later she heard her husband waken with his usual trumpeting which was followed by a blood curdling scream and the sound of frantic footsteps as he ran into the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;The wife could hardly control herself as she rolled on the floor laughing, tears in her eyes! After years of torture she reckoned she had got him back pretty good.&lt;br /&gt;About twenty minutes later, her husband came downstairs in his bloodstained underpants with a look of horror on his face.&lt;br /&gt;She bit her lip as she asked him what was the matter. He said, "Honey, you were right. All these years you have warned me and I didn't listen to you.&lt;br /&gt;"What do you mean?" asked his wife. "Well, you always told me that one day I would end up farting my guts out, and today it finally happened. But by the grace of God, some Vaseline, and these two fingers, I think I got most of them back in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-1635706400933215487?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/1635706400933215487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=1635706400933215487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/1635706400933215487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/1635706400933215487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/03/farting-in-bed.html' title='Farting in Bed'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-3985366916416905801</id><published>2008-02-28T01:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T01:59:16.782-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Paisley Wakes From a Coma</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Ian Paisley goes into a coma. After twenty years he regains consciousness. The first person he sets eyes on is Unionist Peter Robinson.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Paisley, desperate to find out how the situation in the north turned out grabs hold of Robinson and says "Peter, what have I missed over the last 20 years? Did we win, did we lose? You've gotta tell me"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Robinson replies "Well Ian, I've got some good news and some bad news. Do you want the good or the bad first?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Paisley thinks about it for a minute and say "Gimme the bad news first"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Robinson: "Well the bad news is that Gerry Adams is the new president of the United Ireland"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Paisley is shocked but enquires further "So what's the good news then?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Robinson: "Rangers are beating Celtic in the cup final" Paisley is delighted by this and asks "What score is it?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Robinson: "3-14 to 1-11"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-3985366916416905801?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/3985366916416905801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=3985366916416905801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/3985366916416905801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/3985366916416905801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/02/paisley-wakes-from-coma.html' title='Paisley Wakes From a Coma'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-2513690872347107514</id><published>2008-02-28T01:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T01:58:20.075-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Death</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;A 54 year old woman had a heart attack and was taken to the hospital. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; While on the operating table she had a near death experience. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Seeing God she asked "Is my time up?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; God said, "No, you have another 43 years, 2 months and 8 days to live." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Upon recovery, the woman decided to stay in the hospital and have a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; face-lift, liposuction, breast implants and a tummy tuck. She even had &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; someone come in and change her hair colour and brighten her teeth! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Since she had so much more time to live, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; she figured she might as well make the most of it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; After her last operation, she was released from the hospital. While &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; crossing the street on her way home, she was killed by an ambulance. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Arriving in front of God, she demanded, "I thought you said I had another 43 years? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Why didn't you pull me from out of the path of the ambulance?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; - God replied: "I didn't fookin recognize you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-2513690872347107514?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/2513690872347107514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=2513690872347107514' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/2513690872347107514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/2513690872347107514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/02/death.html' title='Death'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-6470641124813870163</id><published>2008-02-11T06:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T06:59:40.042-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jockey Trouble</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;A group of 2nd, 3rd and 4th graders, accompanied by two female teachers, went on a field trip to the local racetrack (Churchill Downs)to learn about thoroughbred horses and the supporting industry(Bourbon), but mostly to see the horses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it was time to take the children to the bathroom it was decided that the girls would go with one teacher and the boys would go with the other. The teacher assigned to the boys was waiting outside the men's room when one of the boys came out and told her that none of them could reach the urinal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having no choice, she went inside, helped the boys with their pants,andbegan hoisting the little boys up one by one holding onto their "wee wees" to direct the flow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;As she lifted one, she couldn't help but notice that he was unusually well endowed. Trying not to show that she was staring, the teacher said, "You must be in the 4th grade."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, ma'am," he replied. "I'm the jockey riding Silver Arrow in the seventh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:Tahoma;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-6470641124813870163?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/6470641124813870163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=6470641124813870163' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/6470641124813870163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/6470641124813870163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/02/jockey-trouble.html' title='Jockey Trouble'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-4813887163035102762</id><published>2008-02-09T05:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T07:00:37.738-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why the Jews were the chosen people</title><content type='html'>&lt;div  style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:arial;" id="post_message_225670"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;God went to the Arabs and said, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;'I have Commandments for you that will make your&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;lives better.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The Arabs asked, 'What are Commandments?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And the Lord said, 'They are rules for living.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;'Can you give us an example?'A&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;'Thou shall not kill.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;'Not kill? We're not interested.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So He went to the Blacks and said, 'I have Commandments.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The Blacks wanted an example, and the Lord said, 'Honor thy Father and Mother.' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Father? We don't know who our fathers are.&lt;br /&gt;We're not interested.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then He went to the Mexicans and said, [/font]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'I have Commandments.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;         &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The Mexicans also wanted an example, and the Lord said 'Thou shall not steal.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not steal? We're not interested.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then He went to the French and said,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'I have Commandments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The French too wanted an example and the Lord said,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Thou shall not commit adultery.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Not commit adultery? We're not interested.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, He went to the Jews and said,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'I have Commandments.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Commandments?' They said, 'How much are they?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'They're free.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'We'll take 10.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There, that should offend just about everybody.&lt;/span&gt;                       &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-4813887163035102762?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/4813887163035102762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=4813887163035102762' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/4813887163035102762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/4813887163035102762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/02/why-jews-were-chosen-people.html' title='Why the Jews were the chosen people'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-8513230334627281048</id><published>2008-02-06T03:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T03:07:01.101-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blind Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;A little blind girl goes up to her mum and says, "Mummy, mummy, when will I be able to see?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Her mum replies "I'll tell you what, I'll take you to the chemist and get you some special cream for your eyes and you will be able to see in the morning." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; So off they went to the chemist, got the cream, and went home, all the while the little girl was getting more and more excited at the prospect of being able to see again. Once they got home, the mother put the cream on the little girls eyes, wrapped a bandage around her head, and took her to bed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; The following morning the little girl stumbled into her mums bedroom and excitedly shouted "Quick mummy, take off the bandage so that i will be able to see again." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; So the mother slowly took of all the bandages, taking her time, and all the while the little girl was getting more and more excited. Once they were off the little girl said "But mummy, I still can't see."To which the mother replied, "April fool!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-8513230334627281048?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/8513230334627281048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=8513230334627281048' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/8513230334627281048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/8513230334627281048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/02/blind-girl.html' title='Blind Girl'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-7785891521725890644</id><published>2008-02-06T03:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T03:05:44.740-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Deathbed Confession</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Becky was on her deathbed with her husband, John, maintaining a steady vigil by her side. As he held her fragile hand, his warm tears ran silently down his face, splashed onto her face, and roused her from her slumber.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; She looked up and her pale lips began to move slightly. "My darling John," she whispered.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; "Hush, my love," he said. "Go back to sleep. Shhh. Don't talk." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; But she was insistent. "John," she said in her tired voice. "I have to talk. I have something I must confess to you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; "There's nothing to confess" replied the weeping John. "It's all right. everything's all right, go to sleep now."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; "No, no. I must die in peace, John. I slept with your brother, your best friend and your father." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; John mustered a pained smile and stroked her hand. "Hush now Becky, don't torment yourself. I know all about it." he said, "Why do you think I poisoned you?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-7785891521725890644?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/7785891521725890644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=7785891521725890644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/7785891521725890644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/7785891521725890644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/02/deathbed-confession.html' title='Deathbed Confession'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-937180993505441113</id><published>2008-02-04T05:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T05:38:40.111-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wedding Test!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;  I was a very happy man. My wonderful girlfriend and I had been dating&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; for over a year, and so we decided to get married. There was only one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; little thing bothering me...It was her beautiful younger sister.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; My prospective sister-in-law was twenty-two, wore very tight miniskirts,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; and generally was bra-less. She would regularly bend down when she was&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; near me, and I always got more than a nice view! It had to be deliberate,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; because she never did it when she was near anyone else.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; One day her "little" sister called and asked me to come over to check&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; the wedding invitations. She was alone when I arrived, and she whispered to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; me that she had feelings and desires for me that she couldn't overcome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; She told me that she wanted me just once before I got married and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; committed my life to her sister.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Well, I was in total shock, and couldn't say a word.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; She said, "I'm going upstairs to my bedroom, and if you want one last&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; wild fling, just come up and get me."   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; I was stunned and frozen in shock as I watched her go up the stairs. I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; stood there for a moment, then turned and made a beeline straight to the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; front door. I opened the door, and headed straight towards my car.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Lo and behold, my entire future family was standing outside, all&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; clapping!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; With tears in his eyes, my father-in-law hugged me and said, "We are&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; very happy that you have passed our little test. We couldn't ask for a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; better man   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; for our daughter. Welcome to the family."  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; And the moral of this story is.... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Always keep your condoms in your car.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-937180993505441113?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/937180993505441113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=937180993505441113' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/937180993505441113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/937180993505441113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/02/wedding-test.html' title='Wedding Test!'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-1408818966443275452</id><published>2008-01-31T07:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T07:38:57.525-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Truck Driver Who Hates Lawyers</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;A truck driver used to amuse himself by running over lawyers he would see walking down the side of the road. Every time he would see a lawyer walking along the road, he would swerve to hit him, and there would be a loud "THUMP" and then he would swerve back on the road. One day, as the truck driver was driving along he saw a priest hitch hiking. He thought he would do a good turn and pulled the truck over. He asked the priest, "Where are you going, Father?". "I'm going to the church 5 miles down the road!", replied the priest. "No problem, Father! I'll give you a lift. Climb in the truck". The happy priest climbed into the passenger seat and the truck driver continued down the road.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Suddenly the truck driver saw a lawyer walking down the road and instinctively he swerved to hit him. But then he remembered there was a priest in the truck with him, so at the last minute he swerved back to the road, narrowly missing the lawyer. However even though he was certain he missed the lawyer, he still heard a loud "THUD". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Not understanding where the noise came from he glanced in his mirrors and when he didn't see anything, he turned to the priest and said, "I'm sorry Father. I almost hit that lawyer". "That's okay", replied the priest. "I got him with the door!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-1408818966443275452?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/1408818966443275452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=1408818966443275452' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/1408818966443275452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/1408818966443275452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/truck-driver-who-hates-lawyers.html' title='Truck Driver Who Hates Lawyers'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-1211448025274215247</id><published>2008-01-31T04:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T04:07:19.986-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Weight Loss Program</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;A guy calls a company and orders their 5-day, 10 lb. weight loss program.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, there's a knock on the door and there stands before him a voluptuous, athletic, 19 year old babe with a sign around her neck. She introduces herself as a representative of the weight loss company. The sign reads, 'If you can catch me, I'm yours.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without a second thought, he takes off after her. A few miles later huffing and puffing, he finally gives up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same girl shows up for the next four days and the same thing happens. On the fifth day, he weighs himself and is delighted to find he has lost 10 lbs. as promised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He calls the company and orders their 5-day/20 pound program. The next day there's a knock at the door and there stands the most stunning, beautiful, sexy woman he has ever seen in his life. She is wearing a skimpy running outfit, running shoes and a sign around her neck that reads, 'If you catch me, I'm yours.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, he's out the door after her like a shot. This girl is in excellent shape and he does his best, but no such luck. So for the next four days, the same routine happens with him gradually getting in better and better shape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much to his delight on the fifth day when he weighs himself, he discovers that he has lost another 20 lbs. as promised. He decides to go for broke and calls the company to order the 7-day/50 pound program&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Are you sure?' asks the representative on the phone. 'This is our most rigorous program.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Absolutely,' he replies, 'I haven't felt this good in years.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day there's a knock at the door; and when he opens it he finds a huge muscular guy standing there wearing nothing but pink running shoes and a sign around his neck that reads, 'If I catch you, you're mine.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He lost 63 pounds that week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-1211448025274215247?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/1211448025274215247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=1211448025274215247' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/1211448025274215247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/1211448025274215247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/weight-loss-program.html' title='Weight Loss Program'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-5545850694432373051</id><published>2008-01-31T04:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T04:05:42.448-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Squashed Frog</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;A little boy about 10 years old was walking down the sidewalk, dragging a flattened frog on a string behind him. He came up to the doorstep of a whore house and knocked on the door. When the Madam answered it, she saw the little boy and asked what he wanted. He said, "I want to have sex with one of the women inside. I have the money to buy it, and I'm not leaving until I get it." The Madam figured, why not, so she told him to come in. Once in, she told him to pick any of the girls he liked. He asked, "Do any of the girls have any diseases?" Of course, the Madam said, "No!" He said,&lt;br /&gt;"I heard all the men talking about having to get shots after making love with Amber. THAT'S the girl I want." Since the little boy was so adamant and had the money to pay for it, the Madam told him to go to the first room on the right. He headed down the hall dragging the squashed frog behind him. Ten minutes later he came back, still dragging the frog, paid the Madam, and headed out the door! . The Madam stopped him and asked,&lt;br /&gt;"Why did you pick the only girl in the place with a disease, instead of one of the others?" He said, "Well, if you must know, tonight when I get home, my parents are going out to a restaurant to eat, leaving me at home with a baby-sitter. After they leave, my baby-sitter will have sex with me because she just happens to be very fond of cute little boys. She will then get the disease that I just caught. When Mom and Dad get back, Dad will take the baby-sitter home. On the way, he'll jump the baby-sitter's bones, and he'll catch the disease. Then when Dad gets home from the baby-sitters, he and Mom will go to bed and have sex, and Mom will catch it. In the morning when Dad goes to work, the Milkman will deliver the milk, have a quickie with Mom and catch the disease, and HE'S the son-of-a-bitch who ran over my FROG!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-5545850694432373051?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/5545850694432373051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=5545850694432373051' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/5545850694432373051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/5545850694432373051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/squashed-frog.html' title='Squashed Frog'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-7462609772431125278</id><published>2008-01-31T04:01:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T04:01:45.327-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Trains</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;A few days after Christmas, a mother was working in the kitchen listening to her young son playing with his new electric train in the living room. She heard the train stop and her son said, "All of you sons of bitches who want off, get the hell off now, cause this is the last stop! And all of you sons of bitches who are getting on, get your asses in the train, cause we're going down the tracks." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; The mother went nuts and told her son, "We don't use that kind of language in this house. Now I want you to go to your room and you are to stay there for TWO HOURS. When you come out, you may play with your train, but I want you to use nice language." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Two hours later, the son comes out of the bedroom and resumes playing with his train. Soon the train stopped and the mother heard her son say, "All passengers who are disembarking from the train, please remember to take all of your belongings with you. We thank you for riding with us today and hope your trip was a pleasant one. We hope you will ride with us again soon." She hears the little boy continue, "For those of you just boarding, we ask you to stow all of your hand luggage under your seat. Remember, there is no smoking on the train. We hope you will have a pleasant and relaxing journey with us today." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; As the mother began to smile, the child added, "For those of you who are pissed off about the TWO HOUR delay, please see the bitch in the kitchen."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-7462609772431125278?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/7462609772431125278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=7462609772431125278' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/7462609772431125278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/7462609772431125278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/trains.html' title='Trains'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-7078469687753848863</id><published>2008-01-31T02:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T02:34:59.924-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Speak at the Dinner Table</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Steve is shopping for a new motorcycle. He finally finds one for a great price. The motorcycle is missing a seal, though, so whenever it rains Steve has to smear Vaseline over the spot where the seal should be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Steve’s girlfriend is having him over for dinner to meet her parents one evening. He drives his new motorcycle to his girlfriend’s house. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; She is waiting outside for him when he arrives. "No matter what happens at dinner tonight, don't say a word. Our family had a fight a while ago about doing the dinner dishes. We haven't done any since... and the first person to speak at dinner has to do them." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Steve sits down for dinner and soon notices that his girlfriend wasn’t exaggerating. It is just how she described it. Dishes are piled up to the ceiling in the kitchen and nobody is saying a word. Steve decides to have a little fun. He grabs his girlfriend, throws her onto the table and has sex with her in front of her parents. His girlfriend is a little flustered, her father is obviously livid, and her mother is horrified. Yet, when Steve and his girlfriend resume their places at the dinner table, nobody says a word. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; A few minutes later, Steve grabs his girlfriend’s mom, throws her onto the table and does a repeat performance. Now his girlfriend is furious, her father is boiling, and her mother is a little more pleased. But still, there is complete silence at the table. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Suddenly, there is a loud clap of thunder and it starts to rain. Steve remembers his motorcycle outside and so he jumps up and grabs his jar of Vaseline. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; With a look of terror in his eyes, the girlfriend’s father backs away from the table and exclaims, "Okay, enough already, I'll do the damn dishes!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-7078469687753848863?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/7078469687753848863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=7078469687753848863' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/7078469687753848863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/7078469687753848863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/dont-speak-at-dinner-table.html' title='Don&apos;t Speak at the Dinner Table'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-2652570277282164283</id><published>2008-01-31T02:20:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T02:22:33.125-08:00</updated><title type='text'>M25</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;Woman driving round the M25, gets a phone call from her husband :&lt;br /&gt;Him: "Are you on the M25?"&lt;br /&gt;Her: "Yes, I am, why?"&lt;br /&gt;Him: "Just be careful then, it says on the radio there's a car going the wrong way in the outside lane"&lt;br /&gt;Her: "It's not just one going the wrong way dear, there's hundreds of them"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-2652570277282164283?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/2652570277282164283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=2652570277282164283' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/2652570277282164283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/2652570277282164283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/m25.html' title='M25'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-2113890847496333113</id><published>2008-01-31T02:20:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T02:20:32.209-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Employee Evaluation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Mike&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Please fine Employee Evalution as requested&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 1 Bob Smith, my assistant programmer, can always be found&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 2 hard at work in his cubicle. Bob works independently, without&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 3 wasting company time talking to colleagues. Bob never&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 4 thinks twice about assisting fellow employees, and he always&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 5 finishes given assignments on time. Often he takes extended&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 6 measures to complete his work, sometimes skipping coffee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 7 breaks. Bob is a dedicated individual who has absolutely no&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 8 vanity in spite of his high accomplishments and profound&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 9 knowledge in his field. I firmly believe that Bob can be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 10 classed as a high-caliber employee, the type which cannot be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 11 dispensed with. Consequently, I duly recommend that Bob be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 12 promoted to executive management, and a proposal will be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 13 executed as soon as possible.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Addendum:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; That idiot was standing over my shoulder while I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; wrote the report sent to you earlier today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Kindly re-read only the odd numbered lines.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-2113890847496333113?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/2113890847496333113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=2113890847496333113' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/2113890847496333113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/2113890847496333113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/employee-evaluation.html' title='Employee Evaluation'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-3671022842964252510</id><published>2008-01-30T04:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-30T04:12:14.998-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Catholic Horses</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; One day while he was at the track playing the ponies and all but   losing his shirt, Mitch noticed a priest who stepped out onto the track   and blessed the forehead of one of the horses lining up for the 4th race.  Lo and behold, that horse - a very long shot - won the race.  Before the next race, as the horses began lining up, Mitch watched with  Interest the old priest step onto the track. Sure enough, as the 5th race  horses came to the starting gate the priest made a blessing on the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;forehead of one of the horses.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;  Mitch made a beeline for a betting window and placed a small bet  on the horse. Again, even though it was another long shot, the horse the  priest had blessed won the race.  Mitch collected his winnings, and anxiously waited to see which  horse the priest would bless for the 6th race. The priest again blessed a horse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;  Mitch bet big on it, and it won. Mitch was elated. As the races  continued the priest kept blessing long shot horses, and each one ended  up coming in first.  Bye and bye, Mitch was pulling in some serious money. By the last  race, he knew his wildest dreams were going to come true. He made a quick  dash to the ATM, withdrew all his savings, and awaited the priest's  blessing that would tell him which horse to bet on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;  True to his pattern, the priest stepped onto the track for the  last race and blessed the forehead of an old nag that was the longest  shot of the day. Mitch also observed the priest blessing the eyes, ears,  and hooves of the old nag.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;  Mitch knew he had a winner and bet every pound he owned on the old nag.  He then watched dumbfounded as the old nag come in dead last. Mitch, in a  state of shock, made his way down to the track area where the priest was.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;  Confronting the old priest he demanded, 'Father! What happened?  All day long you blessed horses and they all won. Then in the last race,  the horse you blessed lost by a country mile. Now, thanks to you I've  lost every penny of my savings - all of it!'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;  The priest nodded wisely and with sympathy. 'Son,' he said,  'that's the problem with you Protestants, you can't tell the difference  between a simple blessing and last rites.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-3671022842964252510?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/3671022842964252510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=3671022842964252510' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/3671022842964252510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/3671022842964252510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/catholic-horses.html' title='Catholic Horses'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-6634612408485791703</id><published>2008-01-25T08:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T08:01:12.412-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I Fired my Secretary?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;This in an old one but someone just sent me it so..........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Why I fired my Secretary. Last week was my birthday and I didn't feel very well waking up on that morning. I went downstairs for breakfast hoping my wife would be pleasant and say, 'Happy Birthday!', and possibly have a small present for me. As it turned out, she barely said good morning, let alone ' Happy Birthday.' I thought... Well, that's marriage for you, but the kids... They will remember. My kids came bounding down stairs to breakfast and didn't say a word. So when I left for the office, I felt pretty low and somewhat despondent. As I walked into my office, my secretary Jane said, 'Good Morning Boss, and by the way Happy Birthday ! ' It felt a little better that at least someone had remembered. I worked until one o'clock , when Jane knocked on my door and said, 'You know, It's such a beautiful day outside, and it is your Birthday, what do you say we go out to lunch, just you and me.' I said, 'Thanks, Jane, that's the greatest thing I've heard all day. Let's go !' We went to lunch. But we didn't go where we normally would go. She chose instead at a quiet bistro with a private table. We had two martinis each and I enjoyed the meal tremendously. On the way back to the office, Jane said, 'You know, It's such a beautiful day... We don't need to go straight back to the office, Do We ?' I responded, 'I guess not. What do you have in mind ?' She said, 'Let's drop by my apartment, it's just around the corner.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; After arriving at her apartment, Jane turned to me and said, ' Boss, if you don't mind, I'm going to step into the bedroom for just a moment. I'll be right back.' 'Ok.' I nervously replied. She went into the bedroom and, after a couple of minutes, she came out carrying a huge birthday cake ... Followed by my wife, my kids, and dozens of my friends and co-workers, all singing 'Happy Birthday'. And I just sat there... On the couch..........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Naked&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-6634612408485791703?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/6634612408485791703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=6634612408485791703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/6634612408485791703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/6634612408485791703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/why-i-fired-my-secretary.html' title='Why I Fired my Secretary?'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-3377894084037233135</id><published>2008-01-25T03:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T03:14:42.049-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Selection of Jokes</title><content type='html'>This is my blog where people can add jokes if they so wish as long as they're not crap! I will moderate these jokes and if I deem them too offensive or plain rubbish, I will delete them. Enjoy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-3377894084037233135?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/3377894084037233135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=3377894084037233135' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/3377894084037233135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/3377894084037233135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/selection-of-jokes.html' title='A Selection of Jokes'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-6927156098108410946</id><published>2008-01-25T03:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T03:12:59.361-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Few Short Jokes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;Did you hear about the look-a-like competition in China?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everybody won.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's the ideal weight for a mother-in-law?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 2.3 pounds including the urn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What had 3 legs and lived on a farm?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The McCartneys&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But really we shouldn't make fun of macca. After all will he ever find&lt;br /&gt;another woman to fill her shoe?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I parked in a disabled space today and a traffic warden shouted to me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Oi, what's your disability?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said 'Tourettes! Now f*ck off you c*nt!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man is in a queue at Tesco and sees this busty blonde staring at him, he&lt;br /&gt;can't believe she is staring at him, then she starts waving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Excuse me do I know you?' he asks. 'Yes I think you are the father of one&lt;br /&gt;of my kids' she says.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man thinks back and remembers his one act of infidelity and says&lt;br /&gt;'F*cking hell are you the bird I shagged on me stag do, whilst your mate&lt;br /&gt;whipped me and your other mate stuck a brush up my arse?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'No' she replies 'I'm your son's English teacher!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said to the wife, 'I thought I saw your name on a loaf of bread today,&lt;br /&gt;but when I looked again it said 'Thick Cut' '&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's the difference between Harold Shipman and Tony Blair?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shipman actually did something about NHS waiting lists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bride on her wedding night says to her husband 'I must confess darling, I&lt;br /&gt;was a hooker!'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He says 'That's alright, dear. Your past is your past, but I must admit that&lt;br /&gt;I find it quite erotic. Tell me about it'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She replies 'Well, my name was Nigel, and I played for Wigan!'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father Duffy walks into the convent and sees sister rose washing the kitchen&lt;br /&gt;floor. He's overcome with desire and pushes her onto the ground. As he's&lt;br /&gt;'Doing' her the Rev Mother comes in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'SISTER ROSE!!!' she roars 'Have some respect. Arch your back girl and keep&lt;br /&gt;Father Duffy's balls off the wet floor!!'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-6927156098108410946?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/6927156098108410946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=6927156098108410946' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/6927156098108410946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/6927156098108410946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/few-short-jokes.html' title='A Few Short Jokes'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-2946443966006492710</id><published>2008-01-25T03:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T03:11:40.244-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Pressing Issue</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Guy goes to the doctor and says "I'm sick".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Doctor says to him "you'll need to stop masturbating"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Guy says "Why?!?!?!??!?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Doctor says.................................... .............&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; "Because I'm trying to examine you!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-2946443966006492710?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/2946443966006492710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=2946443966006492710' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/2946443966006492710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/2946443966006492710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/pressing-issue.html' title='A Pressing Issue'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-8783395157886127383</id><published>2008-01-25T03:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T03:07:43.680-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pet Names</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;3 guys sitting in a bar.First guy says,with a lovin smile on his face. "You know i call my wife, my beautiful flamingo, because she's beautiful long legs and is lovely to look at".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Second guy pipes up,with a smile and says,"I call mine my little dove, because she instills peace,harmony and love in our marraige, everything you'd want".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;3RD guy pipes up with a frown,"i call mine my bloody thrush,because she's an irritating c**t"!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-8783395157886127383?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/8783395157886127383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=8783395157886127383' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/8783395157886127383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/8783395157886127383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/pet-names.html' title='Pet Names'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-4829697719623603174</id><published>2008-01-25T03:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T03:05:56.910-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Who Wears What?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;Jack was about to marry Jill and his father took him to one side. 'When I married your mother, the first thing I did when we got home was take off my trousers,' he said. 'I gave them to your mother and told her to put them on. When she did, they were enormous on her and she said to me that she couldn't possibly wear them, as they were too large. 'I told her, 'of course they're too big. I wear the trousers in this family and I always will. Ever since that day, we have never had a single problem.'&lt;br /&gt;Jack took his father's advice and as soon as he got Jill alone after the wedding, he did the same thing; took off his trousers, gave them to Jill and told her to put them on. Jill said that the trousers were too big and she couldn't possibly wear them. 'Exactly,' replied Jack. 'I wear the trousers in this relationship and I always will. I don't want you to forget that. 'Jill paused and removed her knickers and gave them to Jack. ”Try these on,' she said, so he tried them on but they were too small. 'I can't possibly get into your knickers,' said Jack. 'Exactly,' replied Jill. 'And if you don't change your attitude, you never will.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-4829697719623603174?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/4829697719623603174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=4829697719623603174' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/4829697719623603174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/4829697719623603174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/who-wears-what.html' title='Who Wears What?'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-4216561028419737647</id><published>2008-01-25T03:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T03:04:15.214-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Liverpool Fan</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;This jokes fairly old, but a mate just sent me it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:Tahoma;font-size:85%;"  &gt;A man is watching the Everton/Liverpool game. After he has been sitting in his seat for a few minutes, the man in the seat behind him taps him on the shoulder and asks if anyone is sitting in the seat next to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No," he says. "The seat is empty."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Absolutely incredible!" said the man. "Who in their right minds would have a seat like this for one of the great games of the season and not use it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well actually," he says, "the seat belonged to my wife. She was supposed to come with me but she passed away. This is the first game we haven't been to together since we got married."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," replies the man. "That's terrible, but couldn't you find someone else to take the seat; a friend or relative, or even a neighbour?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man shakes his head and says, "No, they're all at the funeral"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-4216561028419737647?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/4216561028419737647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=4216561028419737647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/4216561028419737647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/4216561028419737647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/liverpool-fan.html' title='Liverpool Fan'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-1067900013618846343</id><published>2008-01-25T03:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T03:02:05.502-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Trans-Atlantic Flight</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;A Mormon was seated next to an Irishman on a flight from Green Bay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the plane was airborne, drink orders were taken. Paddy asked for a whiskey, which was promptly brought and placed before him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The flight attendant then asked the Mormon if he would like a drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He replied in disgust, "I'd rather be savagely raped by a dozen whores than let liquor touch my lips."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Irishman immediately handed his drink back to the attendant and said, "Me, too, I didn't know we had a choice."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-1067900013618846343?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/1067900013618846343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=1067900013618846343' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/1067900013618846343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/1067900013618846343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/trans-atlantic-flight.html' title='Trans-Atlantic Flight'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-214968632839841144</id><published>2008-01-25T02:58:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T03:00:35.191-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Drunk Driver</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;The PSNI stop a drunk driver.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 'Can you blow into the bag sir,' says the copper.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; The man produces a letter from his doctor saying hes asthmatic and cant blow into the bag.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 'Ok', says the cop, 'come with us to the hospital and get some blood tests.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Out comes another letter saying that the mans anaemic and cant give blood.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 'Ok' says the cop, 'down to the station for a urine sample.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Another letter is produced from Gerry Adams saying Under the terms of The Good Friday Agreement, your not allowed to take the piss out of Catholics!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-214968632839841144?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/214968632839841144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=214968632839841144' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/214968632839841144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/214968632839841144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/drunk-driver_25.html' title='Drunk Driver'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-3847977578230691560</id><published>2008-01-25T02:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T03:00:33.961-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Drunk Driver</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;The PSNI stop a drunk driver.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 'Can you blow into the bag sir,' says the copper.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; The man produces a letter from his doctor saying hes asthmatic and cant blow into the bag.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 'Ok', says the cop, 'come with us to the hospital and get some blood tests.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Out comes another letter saying that the mans anaemic and cant give blood.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; 'Ok' says the cop, 'down to the station for a urine sample.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Another letter is produced from Gerry Adams saying Under the terms of The Good Friday Agreement, your not allowed to take the piss out of Catholics!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-3847977578230691560?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/3847977578230691560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=3847977578230691560' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/3847977578230691560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/3847977578230691560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/drunk-driver.html' title='Drunk Driver'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-4438653247223690751</id><published>2008-01-25T02:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T02:56:32.485-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Irish Farmer</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color:green;"&gt;A farmer named Seamus had a car accident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In court, the lorry company's fancy hot shot solicitor was questioning Seamus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Didn't you say, to the Garda at the scene of the accident, 'I'm fine,'?"asked the solicitor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seamus responded, "Well, I'll tell you what happened. I had just loaded my favourite cow, Bessie, into the..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I didn't ask for any details", the solicitor interrupted. "Just answer the question. Did you not say, at the scene of the accident, 'I'm fine!'?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seamus said, "Well, I had just got Bessie into the trailer and I was driving down the road...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The solicitor interrupted again and said, "Your Honour, I am trying to establish the fact that, at the scene of the accident, this man told the Gárda on the scene that he was fine. Now several weeks after the accident he is trying to sue my client. I believe he is a fraud.&lt;br /&gt;Please tell him to simply answer the question."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this time, the Judge was fairly interested in Seamus's answer and said to the solicitor, "I'd like to hear what he has to say about his favourite cow, Bessie".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seamus thanked the Judge and proceeded. "Well as I was saying, I had just loaded Bessie, my favourite cow, into the trailer and was driving her down the road when this huge lorry and trailer came through a stop sign and hit my trailer right in the side. I was&lt;br /&gt;Thrown into one ditch and Bessie was thrown into the other. I was hurt, very bad like, and didn't want to move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I could hear old Bessie moaning and groaning. I knew she was in terrible shape just by her groans. Shortly after the accident a garda on a motorbike turned up. He could hear Bessie moaning and groaning so he went over to her. After he looked at her, and saw her condition, he took out his gun and shot her between the eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the Garda came across the road, gun still in hand, looked at me, and said, "How are you feeling?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now what would you say?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-4438653247223690751?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/4438653247223690751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=4438653247223690751' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/4438653247223690751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/4438653247223690751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/irish-farmer.html' title='Irish Farmer'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-5409052067415557066</id><published>2008-01-25T02:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T02:53:34.583-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Fly Texan</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" &gt;In a crowded city at a crowded bus stop, a beautiful blonde was waiting for the bus. She was decked out in a tight leather mini skirt with matching tight leather boots and jacket. As the bus rolled up and it became her turn to get on, she became aware that her skirt was too tight to allow her leg to come up to the height of the first step on the bus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slightly embarrassed and with a quick smile to the bus driver she reached behind her and unzipped her skirt a little thinking that this would give her enough slack to raise her leg. Again she tried to make the step onto the bus only to discover she still couldn't! So, a little more embarrassed she once again reached behind her and unzipped her skirt a little more and for a second time attempted the step and once again, much to her chagrin she could not raise her leg because of the tight skirt. So, with a coy little smile to the driver she again unzipped the offending skirt to give a little more slack and again was unable to make the step.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About this time the big Texan that was behind her in the line picked her up easily from the waist and placed her lightly on the step of the bus Well, she went ballistic and turned on the would-be hero screeching at him "How dare you touch my body!! I don't even know who you are!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this the Texan drawled "Well ma'am normally I would agree with you but after you unzipped my fly three times, I kinda figured that we was friends."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-5409052067415557066?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/5409052067415557066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=5409052067415557066' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/5409052067415557066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/5409052067415557066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/fly-texan.html' title='A Fly Texan'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-7067438288200006967</id><published>2008-01-25T02:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T02:49:27.740-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cure for a Cough</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;A pharmacist walks into his store to find a guy leaning against a wall.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; He asks the blonde clerk, 'Whats with that guy over there?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Blonde responds, 'Well, he came in this morning to get something for his cough, I could'nt find anything so I gave him a bottle of laxatives.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; The pharmacist yells, 'You idiot! You cant treat a cough with laxatives!'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; Blonde says, 'Of course you can, look at him, he's afraid to cough!'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-7067438288200006967?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/7067438288200006967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=7067438288200006967' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/7067438288200006967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/7067438288200006967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/cure-for-cough.html' title='Cure for a Cough'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-8879286541352423908</id><published>2008-01-24T08:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T08:50:34.578-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Cinderella</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Cinderella is now 95 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a fulfilling life with the now dead prince, she happily sits upon her rocking chair, watching the world go by from her front porch, with a cat named Bob for companionship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One sunny afternoon out of nowhere, appeared the fairy godmother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cinderella said, "Fairy Godmother, what are you doing here after all these years"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fairy godmother replied, "Cinderella, you have lived an exemplary life since I last saw you. Is there anything for which your heart still yearns?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cinderella was taken aback, overjoyed, and after some thoughtful consideration, she uttered her first wish:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The prince was wonderful, but not much of an investor.&lt;br /&gt;I'm living hand to mouth on my disability cheques, and I wish I were wealthy beyond comprehension.&lt;br /&gt;Inst antly her rocking chair turned into solid gold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cinderella said,&lt;br /&gt;"Ooh, thank you, Fairy Godmother"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fairy godmother replied,&lt;br /&gt;"It is the least that I can do.&lt;br /&gt;What do you want for your second wish?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cinderella looked down at her frail body, and said,&lt;br /&gt;"I wish I were young and full of the beauty and youth I once had."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At once, her wish became reality, and her beautiful young visage returned. Cinderella felt stirrings inside her that had been dorm ant for years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the fairy godmother spoke once more:&lt;br /&gt;"You have one more wish; what shall it be?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cinderella looks over to the frightened cat in the corner and says, "I wish for you to transform Bob, my old cat, into a kind and handsome young man."&lt;br /&gt;Magically, Bob suddenly underwent so fundamental a change in his biological make-up that, when he stood before her, he was a man so beautiful the likes of him neither she nor the world had ever seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fairy godmother said,&lt;br /&gt;"Congratulations, Cinderella, enjoy your new life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a blazing shock of bright blue electricity,&lt;br /&gt;the fairy godmother was gone as suddenly as she appeared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a few eerie moments,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bob and Cinderella looked into each other's eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cinderella sat, breathless, gazing at the most beautiful, stunningly perfect man she had ever seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Bob walked over to Cinderella, who sat transfixed in her rocking chair, &amp;amp; held her close in his young muscular arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He leaned in close, blowing her golden hair with his warm breath as he whispered...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bet you're sorry now that you cut my nuts off"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-8879286541352423908?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/8879286541352423908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=8879286541352423908' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/8879286541352423908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/8879286541352423908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/old-cinderella.html' title='Old Cinderella'/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3244114656441110160.post-6774409550808730016</id><published>2008-01-17T07:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-17T07:54:12.300-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dolly Parton and the Queen'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;Dolly Parton and Queen Elizabeth went to the Pearly Gates on the same day.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;They both met with an Angel to find out if they would be admitted to Heaven.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The angel said "Unfortunately, there's only one space in Heaven today so I must decide which of one of you will be admitted."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The Angel asked Dolly if there was some particular reason why she should go to Heaven.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Dolly took off her top and said, "Look at these, they're the most perfect breasts God ever created and I'm sure it will please God to be able to see them every day, for eternity."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The Angel thanked Dolly, and asked Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth the same question.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The Queen walked over to a toilet, pulled the lever and flushes it without saying a word. The Angel immediately said, "OK, your Majesty, you may go into Heaven."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Dolly was outraged and asked, "What was that all about? I showed you two of God's own perfect creations and you turned me down. She simply flushed a commode and she got admitted to Heaven! Would you explain that to me?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Sorry, Dolly," said the Angel, "but even in Heaven, a royal flush beats a pair - no matter how big they are."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3244114656441110160-6774409550808730016?l=joketimewithali.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/feeds/6774409550808730016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3244114656441110160&amp;postID=6774409550808730016' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/6774409550808730016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3244114656441110160/posts/default/6774409550808730016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joketimewithali.blogspot.com/2008/01/dolly-parton-and-queen-elizabeth-went.html' title=''/><author><name>alimitchell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04992894348600476000</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_wWXHvLWrsAs/R5B53b3idBI/AAAAAAAAAAU/deDbXSkIx1E/S220/The+Showstopper.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
