A man was driving through west Texas one spring evening. The road was deserted and he had not seen a soul for what seemed like hours. Suddenly his car started to cough and splutter and the engine slowly died away, leaving him sitting on the side of the road in total silence. He popped the hood and looked to see if there was anything that he could do to get it going again. Unfortunately, he had a limited knowledge of cars, so all he could do was look at the engine. Feeling despondent as he stood looking at the gradually fading light of his flashlight, he cursed that he had not put in new batteries like he had promised himself. Suddenly, through the inky shadows, came a deep voice, "It's your fuel pump." The man raised up quickly, striking his head on the underside of the hood. "Who said that?" he demanded. There were two horses standing in the fenced field alongside the road and the man was amazed when the nearest of the two horses repeated, "It's your fuel pump. Tap it with your flashlight, and try it again." Confused, the man tapped the fuel pump with his flashlight, turned the key and sure enough, the engine roared to life. He muttered a short thanks to the horse and screeched away. When he reached the next town, he ran into the local bar. "Gimme a large whiskey, please!" he said. A rancher sitting at the bar looked at the man's ashen face and asked, "What's wrong, man? You look like you've seen a ghost." "It's unbelievable," the man said and recalled the whole tale to the rancher. The rancher took a sip of his beer and looked thoughtful. "A horse, you say? Was it by any chance a white horse?" The man replied in the affirmative. "Yes, it was! Am I crazy?" "No, you ain't crazy. In fact, you're lucky," said the rancher, "because that black horse don't know cr*p about cars."

A little 12-year-old girl was walking home when a big man on a black motorcycle pulled up beside her. After following along for a while, the rider turns to her and asks, "Hey there little girl," and winks, "do you want to go for a ride?" "NO!" says the little girl as she keeps on walking. The motorcyclist again pulls up beside her and asks, "Come on now, I will give you $10 if you hop on the back." "NO!" says the little girl again as she hurries down the street. The motorcyclist pulls up beside the little girl again and says, "Okay, last offer! I'll give you 20 Bucks and a big bag of candy if you just hop on the back of my bike." Finally, the little girl stops and turns towards him and says, pointedly: "Look Dad, you're the one who bought the Honda instead of the Harley...YOU RIDE IT!"

The other night I was invited out for a night with the 'girls.' I told my husband that I would be home by midnight, 'I promise!' Well, the hours passed and the margaritas went down way too easily. Around 3 a.m., a bit loaded, I headed for home. Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hallway started up and cuckooed 3 times. Quickly, realizing my husband would probably wake up, I cuckooed another 9 times. I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution in order to escape a conflict. (Even when very drunk I figured 3 cuckoos plus 9 cuckoos totals = 12 cuckoos = MIDNIGHT!) The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in. I told him "MIDNIGHT". He didn't seem angry in the least. Whew, I got away with that one! Then he said 'We need a new cuckoo clock.' When I asked him why, he said, 'Well, last night our clock cuckooed three times, then said 'oh cr*p.' Cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another three times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the coffee table and passed wind."

A man, called to testify at the Internal Revenue Service (IRS), asked his accountant for advice on what to wear. "Wear your shabbiest clothing. Let him think you are a pauper," the accountant replied. Then he asked his lawyer the same question but got the opposite advice. "Do not let them intimidate you. Wear your most elegant suit and tie." Confused, the man went to his priest, told him of the conflicting advice, and requested some resolution to the dilemma. "Let me tell you a story," replied the Priest. "A woman, about to be married, asked her mother what to wear on her wedding night. 'Wear a heavy, long, flannel nightgown that goes right up to your neck." But when she asked her best friend, she got conflicting advice. "Wear your most sexy negligee, with a V neck right down to your navel." The man protested: "What does all this have to do with my problem with the IRS?!" "Simple", replied the Priest. "It doesn't matter what you wear, you are going to get screwed!"

I got pulled over earlier today... Cop: “License and registration sir? You show signs of being drunk.” Me: “Officer I assure you I haven’t even had a sip.” Cop: “Alright sir, well how about a quick test. Imagine you’re driving down the dark road and see two lights in the distance, what is it?” Me: “A car..?” Cop: “Of course! But what kind? A Chevy, Dodge or a Ford?” Me: “How the hell am I supposed to know.” Cop: “Just as I suspected, you’ve been drinking.” Me: “But sir, I didn’t drink anything.” Cop: “Okay, then tell me, on the same dark road, one light shows up in the distance, what is it?” Me: “A motorcycle.” Cop: “Well DUH. I meant... is it a Honda, a Harley or a Kawasaki?” Me: “I have no idea!” Cop: “Go figure, you’re intoxicated.” Me: “Okay, then let me ask you this. You’re driving on the highway around midnight, and you see a woman on the roadside, wearing a miniskirt, fishnets, high heals, and a bra for a top. What would you call her?” Cop: “A hooker of course.” Me: “Yes of course, but is it your wife, your daughter, or your mother?” Long story short... things went downhill from there and now I have a court date to attend...

The European Commission has just announced an agreement whereby English will be the official language of the European Union rather than German, which was the other possibility. As part of the negotiations, The British Government conceded that English spelling had some room for improvement and has accepted a 5-year phase-in plan that would become known as "Euro-English". In the first year, "s" will replace the soft "c". Sertainly, this will make the sivil servants jump with joy. The hard "c" will be dropped in favour of "k". This should klear up konfusion, and keyboards kan have one less letter. There will be growing publik enthusiasm in the sekond year when the troublesome "ph" will be replaced with "f". This will make words like fotograf 20% shorter. In the 3rd year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where more komplikated changes are possible. Governments will enkourage the removal of double letters which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling. Also, al wil agre that the horibl mes of the silent "e" in the languag is disgrasful and it should go away. By the 4th yer peopl wil be reseptiv to steps such as replasing "th" with "z" and "w" with "v". During ze fifz yer, ze unesesary "o" kan be dropd from vords kontaining "ou" and after ziz fifz yer, ve vil hav a reil sensibl riten styl. Zer vil be no mor trubl or difikultis and evrivun vil find it ezi tu understand ech oza. Ze drem of a united Europ vil finali kum tru. Und efter ze fifz yer, ve vil al be speking German like zey vunted in ze forst plas.

A little old lady with blue hair entered a se* shop and asked in a quivering voice, “Yy-youuuung man, dd-do y-you, sell-l d-didildoes h-hhhere?” The salesman, somewhat taken aback by the little old lady’s appearance in his shop answered, “Uh, yes ma’am, we do.” The little lady, holding her quivering hands about 10 inches apart asked, “Dddd-do y-you ha-ave any ab-bb-bout th-this lon-ong?” “Well... yes ma’am, a few of them are about that big.” “D-do aa-ny of them ha-ave a v-v-v-vibra-a-ator?” “Yes ma’am, one of them does.” “W-w-ell, h-how d-do yo-ou t-turn it off?”