AmbergrisCaye.com Home Forums Talk Belize Chat Area Joke Thread

A crusty old paratrooper colonel found himself at a gala event at Fidos. As usual, there was no shortage of extremely young, extraordinarily attactive ladies in attendance. One of them escaped the clutches of Pedro long enough to approach the colonel for conversation.

She said, "Excuse me, sir, but you seem to be a very serious man. Are you this way all the time, or is something bothering you?"

"No," the colonel said, "just serious by nature!"

The young lady looked at his awards and decorations, and said, "It looks like you have seen a lot of action."

The colonel's short reply was, "Yes, a lot of action."

The young lady, tiring of trying to start up a conversation but willing to do almost anything to keep Pedro from pawing her again, said, "You know, you should lighten up a little... relax and enjoy yourself."

The colonel just stared at her in the same serious manner.

Finally the young lady said, "You know, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but when was the last time you had sex?"

The colonel looked at her and replied, "1955."

She said, "Well there you go, you really need to chill out and quit taking everything so seriously...I mean, no sex since 1955, isn't that a little extreme?"

The colonel, glancing at his watch, said in his matter-of-fact voice, "Oh, I don't know. It's only 2130 now."

Dating a Marine's Daughter


Rule One: If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anything up.

Rule Two: You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.

Rule Three: I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, In order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.

Rule Four: I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.

Rule Five: In order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early."

Rule Six: I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.

Rule Seven: As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car.

Rule Eight: The following places are not appropriate on dates with my daughter:

· Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool.
· Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight.
· Places where there is darkness.
· Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness.
· Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka zipped up to her throat.
· Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which features chain saws are okay.
· Hockey games are okay; Old folks homes are better.

Rule Nine: Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

Rule Ten: Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy outside of Chu Lai. When my Agent Orange or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car. There is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.

You Are dismissed!

Peter when are you and Susan 'going back'?????

Hey Susie, probably not until June again, though we would go tomorrow if possible. We might be able to ease the pain a bit by visiting good old mom & dad (mine) in the Keys in Feb. Meanwhile I am cracking up at your regular reports.

Well, I'll try to do a trip report after this one, but the depression that sets in immediately after I get back makes that difficult to do. 2 more sleeps - aahhhh I can almost taste my Thanksgiving dinner - fresh caught and BBQ lobster, snapper, on the beach..... :p :p :p and COLD BELIKIN.

For all of you who occasionally have a really bad day and you just need to take it out on someone - don't take it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don't know.

I was sitting at my desk, when I remembered a phone call I had forgotten to make. I found the number, and dialed it. A man answered saying, "Hello?"

I politely said, "This is Fred Hannifin, could I speak with Robin Carter please?"

Suddenly, the phone was slammed down on me. I could not believe that anyone could be so rude. I tracked down Robin's correct number, and called her (I had transposed the last two digits of her phone number).

After hanging up with her, I decided to call the "wrong" number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled, "You're an asshole!" and I hung up. I wrote his number down, with the word 'a*******' next to it, and put it in my desk drawer.

Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and yell, "You're an a******!" It always cheered me up.

When Caller, ID came to our area, I thought my therapeutic "a******" calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said,"Hi, this is John Smith from the Telephone Company. I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with the caller ID program?"

He yelled, "NO!" and slammed the phone down. I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an a******!"

So, one day I was at the grocery-store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some kid in a black BMW cut me off, and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I had been waiting for the spot. The idiot ignored me. I noticed a "For Sale" sign in his car window, so I wrote down his number.

A couple of days later, right after calling the first a****** (I now had his number on speed dial), I thought I had better call the BMW a****** too. I dialed and someone said, "Hello?"

I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"

"Yes, it is."

"Can you tell me where I can see it?"

"Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow home and the car is parked right out front."

"What's your name?" I asked.

"My name is Don Hansen,"he said.

"When is a good time to catch you, Don?"

"I'm home every evening after five."


"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"

"Yes."

"Don, you're an a******!"

Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.

Now, when I had a problem, I had two a******s to call. But after several months of calling them, it wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be. So, I came up with an idea: I called A****** #1:

"Hello"

"You're an a******!" (but I didn't hang up).

"Are you still there?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"Stop calling me," he screamed

"Make me," I said.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Don Hansen."

"Yeah? Where do you live?"

"A******, I live at 1802 West 34th Street, a yellow house with my black Beemer parked in front."

He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers."

I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, asshole."

Then I called a****** # 2:

"Hello?" he said.

"Hello A******," I said.

He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..."

"You'll what?" I said.

"I'll kick your ass," he exclaimed.

I answered, "Well, a******, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now."

Then, I hung up, and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 1802 West 34th Street, and I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.

Then, I called Channel 13 news about the gang war going down on West 34th Street.

I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th St. There I saw two a******s beating the crap out of each other in front of six squad cars, a police helicopter, and a TV news crew.


Now, I feel better...


"Where the heart is willing it will find a million ways, where it is unwilling it will find a million excuses. Its not having what you want, its wanting what you've got..."

Now THAT made me laugh! If anyone gets ahold of this case and dumps your LUDs you're in trouble!

A successful lawyer flew to Vegas for the weekend to gamble. He lost the shirt off his back and had nothing left but a quarter and the second half of his round trip ticket. He knew if he could just get to the airport he could get himself home. So he went out to the front of the casino where there was a cab waiting at the front of a long line of cabs. He got in and explained his situation to the cabbie. He promised to send the driver money from home, he offered him his credit card numbers, his drivers license number, his address, etc. but to no avail. The cabbie said, "If you don't have fifteen dollars, get the hell out of my cab!" So the lawyer was forced to hitchhike to the airport and was barely in time to catch his flight.

One year later the lawyer, having worked long and hard to regain his financial success, returned to Vegas - and this time he won big. Feeling pretty good about himself, he went out to the front of the casino to get a cab ride back to the airport. Well, who should he see out there, this time at the end of a long line of cabs, but his old buddy who had refused to give him a ride when he was down on his luck. The lawyer thought for a moment about how he could make the guy pay for his lack of charity and then, he hit on a plan. The lawyer got in the first cab in the line, "How much for a ride to the airport," he asked. "Fifteen bucks," came the reply. "And how much for you to go down on me on the drive?" "What?! GET OUT!, out of my cab, you scum." The lawyer got into the back of each cab in the long line and asked the same questions, with the same result - getting kicked out of each taxi.

Finally, when he got to his old friend at the back of the line, he got in and asked, "How much for a ride to the airport?" The cabbie replied, "Fifteen bucks." The lawyer said, "O.K." and off they went. As they drove slowly past the long line of cabs, the lawyer gave a big smile and a big thumbs up to each of the cabbies as they passed.

noe that made ME (and not lude induceded)

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