What an unfortunate wedding photo, lol.
A Mother had 3 virgin daughters and they were all getting married within a short time period. Because Mom was a bit worried about how their sex life would get started, she made them all promise to send a postcard from the honeymoon with a few words on how marital sex felt.
The first girl sent a card from Hawaii two days after the wedding. The card said nothing but “Nescafe”. Mom was puzzled at first, but then went to the kitchen and got out the Nescafe jar. It said:
“Good till the last drop”.
Mom blushed, but was pleased for her daughter.
The second girl sent the card from Vermont a week after the wedding, and the card read: “Benson & Hedges”. Mom now knew to go straight to her husband’s cigarettes, and she read from the Benson & Hedges pack:
“Extra Long. King Size”.
She was again slightly embarrassed but still happy for her daughter.
The third girl left for her honeymoon in the Caribbean. Mom waited for a week, nothing. Another week went by and still nothing. Then after a whole month, a card finally arrived.
Written on it with shaky handwriting were the words “British Adirways”. Mom took out her latest Harper’s Bazaar magazine, flipped through the pages fearing the worst, and finally found the ad for BA. The ad said:
“Three times a day, seven days a week, both ways.”
Ok, here is a bit popular internet video for you. The How Can She Slap? video.
Basically the video is of some crazy Indian reality TV show, where the hot but mean host slaps this guy, who obviously isn’t reacting to her verbal abuse.
It apparently went down like this (according to the bottom video parody, you can hear the words):
Guy: “We don’t want to talk to you actually” (smirking)
Host: “FUCK YOU !”
Guy: [no] “you” (smirking)
Host SLAPs Guy
Guy SLAPs HOST
Guy: “How Can She Slap?”
and, thanks to Simon, here is the How Can You Slap T-Shirt
Ok, this took place at work the other night. Basically I’ve been getting gourmet fresh pasta to take into work and cook for dinner. I bought some really nice sounding Goats cheese and feta ravioli and made it with some ready-made creamy pasta sauce.
Since I only get 30 min for my break, I spent most of my time actually cooking the pasta and cleaning up the kitchen. I took my finished meal back to my desk where I quickly finished it off and left it sitting next to my desk. Hours passed…
…eventually JR walks up, chatting away and I notice that the remains of the pasta look particularly disturbing and I say to him;
“Yum, want some?”
to which he replies;
“No thanks, that looks like baby vomit… in fact, that looks like a gay man’s fart.”
I like to think that there is a limit, a bottom point of things that JR can say that are disturbing and wrong, but he always finds a way to lower it. Every time.