General Area

The Magnum Penis
Can you remember your first one?

The Hyundai Penis
All day every day

The M&M Penis
Melts in your mouth, not in your hand

The Just Juice Penis
Just squeeze

The Yellow Pages Penis
Let your penis do the walking

The Sprite Penis
Obey your thirst

The Toyota Penis
Oh what a feeling

The Steve Erkel Penis
Did I do that?

The Coke Penis
Always the real thing

The American Express Penis:
Don't leave home without it.

The Microsof Penis
Where does it want to go today ??

The Julius Caesar Penis
Vidi, vici, veni. (I saw, I conquered, I came)

The Energizer Penis
Just keeps going and going and going

The Cadbury's Penis
A glass and a half of full cream...

WHY THE INTERNET IS LIKE A PENIS

It can be up or down. It's more fun when it's up, but it makes it hard to get any real work done.

In the long distant past, its only purpose was to transmit information considered vital to the survival of the species. Some people still think that's the only thing it should be used for, but most folks today use it for fun most of the time.

It has no conscience and no memory. Left to its own devices, it will just do the same damn dumb things it did before.

It provides a way to interact with other people. Some people take this interaction very seriously, others treat it as a lark. Sometimes it's hard to tell what kind of person you're dealing with until it's too late.

If you don't apply the appropriate protective measures, it can spread viruses.

It has no brain of its own. Instead, it uses yours. If you use it too much, you'll find it becomes more and more difficult to think coherently.

We attach an importance to it that is far greater than its actual size and influence warrant.

If you're not careful what you do with it, it can get you in big trouble.

It has its own agenda. Somehow, no matter how good your intentions, it will warp your behavior. Later you may ask yourself "why on earth did I do that?"

Some folks have it, some don't.

Those who have it would be devastated if it were ever cut off. They think that those who don't have it are somehow inferior. They think it gives them power. They are wrong.

Those who don't have it may agree that it's a nifty toy, but think it's not worth the fuss that those who do have it make about it. Still, many of those who don't have it would like to try it.

Once you've started playing with it, it's hard to stop. Some people would just play with it all day if they didn't have work to do.

Why the Internet Is Like a Vagina

The more people use it the bigger it gets.
If you play with it too much you can go blind.
You wouldn't believe the things people put in there!
Some people think they know how to move around in it, but they really can't interface.
In the long-distant past, its only purpose was to receive information considered vital to the survival of the species. Some people still think that's the only thing it should be used for, but most folks today use it for fun most of the time.
It has no conscience and no memory. Left to its own devices, it will just do the same damn dumb things it did before.
It provides a way to interact with other people. Some people take this interaction very seriously, others treat it as a lark. Sometimes it's hard to tell what kind of person you're dealing with until it's too late.
If you don't apply the appropriate protective measures, it can spread viruses.
It has no brain of its own. Instead, it uses yours. If you use it too much, you'll find it becomes more and more difficult to think coherently.
You think you're just playing around, but you can get involved in something that takes 9 months to finish.
The part you see is actually just the front end of a very complicated system.
If you're not careful what you do with it, it can get you in big trouble.
It has its own agenda. Somehow, no matter how good your intentions, it will warp your behavior. Later you may ask yourself "why on earth did I do that?"
Some folks have it, some don't.
Those who have it think that those who don't have it are somehow inferior.
Those who don't have it may agree that it's a nifty toy, but think it's not worth the fuss that those who do have it make about it. Still, many of those who don't have it spend all their time trying to access it.
Once you've started playing with it, it's hard to stop. Some people would just play with it all day if they didn't have work to do.
Some people believe in security and avoiding penetration but others believe it should be open to all comers.
Both are subject to abuse by hardware dongles.

The wife approaches her husband wearing the exact same sexy little negligee she wore on their wedding night. She looks at her husband and says, "Honey, do you remember this?" He looks up at her and replies, "Yes dear, I do, you wore that same negligee the night we were married." "That's right." she replied, "And do you remember what you said to me that night?" He nods and says, "Yes dear, I still remember." "Well, what was it?" He responds, "Well honey, as I remember, I said, "Ohhhhhhh, Baby, I'm going to suck the life out of those big tits and screw your brains out!" She giggles and says, "Yes, That was it. That was exactly what you said. And now it's 50 years later, I'm in the same negligee I wore that night. What do you have to say tonight?" Again, he looks up at her and looks her up and down and says, "Mission Accomplished."

A gang of robbers broke into a lawyer's club by mistake. The old legal lions gave them a fight for their life and their money. The gang was very happy to escape. "It ain't so bad," one crook noted. "We got $25 between us." The boss screamed: "I warned you to stay clear of lawyers! We had $100 when we broke in!"

A farmer walked into a drug store and said to the pharmacist, "I want me one of them thar condoms with pesticides on it. Where do I find 'em?" The pharmacist replied, "Oh sir, you must mean that you want the condoms with SPERMICIDE, not pesticide. They're on aisle 4." "No, no, I want me them thar condoms with PESTICIDE on it," growled the farmer. "Sir," said the pharmacist, exasperated from explaining, "PESTICIDE is for killing insects, SPERMICIDE is for killing sperm. I'm sure that you mean spermicide instead of pesticide." "Listen here," argued the farmer, "my wife's got a bug up her ass and I'm a goin' huntin' for it. Like I said, I want me one of them condoms with PESTICIDE on it!"

A few days after Christmas, a mother was working in the kitchen and listening to her son play with his new electric train set 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 because this is the last stop. All of you sons of bitches who are getting on, get your asses on the train now because we're leaving." The mother went into the living room and told her son, " We don't use that kind of language in this house. Now go to your room for two hours. When you come down, you may play with your trains as long as you use proper language." Two hours later, the mother was still working in the kitchen when her son came out of his room and resumed playing with his trains. The train stopped and the mother heard, "All passengers disembarking the train, please remember to take all of your belongings. We thank you for riding with us today and hope your trip was a pleasant one.

A priest is sent to Alaska. A bishop goes up to visit one year later. The bishop asks "How do you like it up here?" The priest says "If it wasn't for my Rosary and two martinis a day, I'd be lost. Bishop, would you like a martini?" "Yes." "Rosary, get the bishop a martini!"

A Priest at a Church picnic was staring at a member of his parish wearing the tiniest of bikinis. A Nun walked over and said, "Shame on you Father, staring at that woman like that!" The Priest replied, "Sister Mary Elizabeth, I know you to be on a diet, and yet I saw you ogling the buffet."

A woman sought the advice of a sex therapist, confiding that she found it increasingly difficult to find a man who could satisfy her, and that it was very wearisome getting in and out of all these short term relationships. "Isn't there some way to judge the size of a man's equipment from the outside?" she asked earnestly. "The only foolproof way, is by the size of his feet" counseled the therapist. So the woman went downtown and proceeded to cruise the streets, until she came across a young fellow standing in an unemployment line with the biggest feet she had ever laid her eyes on. She took him out to dinner, wined and dined him, and then took him back to her apartment for an evening of abandon. When the man woke up the next morning, the woman had already gone but, by the bedside table was a $20 bill and a note that read, "With my compliments, take this money and go out and buy a pair of shoes that fit you."

A secretary, out with appendicitis, was being visited by a co- worker in the hospital. "How are things at the office going, Claudia ?" she asked. "Well, they're all sharing your work. Jody is making the coffee, Louise is reading all your magazines, and Sharon is making it with the Boss."

When I stopped the bus to pick up little five year old Chris for preschool, I noticed an older woman hugging him as he left the house. "Is that your grandmother?" I asked Chris when he boarded. "Yes," Chris said. "She's come to visit us for Christmas." "How nice," I said. "Where does she live?" "At the airport," Chris replied. "Whenever we want her we just go out there and get her."

Funniest damn thing that has ever happened to me. A couple of weeks ago we decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steakhouse for dinner. It was a Wednesday night which means that macaroni and beef was on the hot bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served. Wednesday night is also kid's night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering from table to table entertaining the little bastards. It may seem that the events about to be told have little connection to those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment. We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that evening, I tell you -- in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into my belly. I was sated. Perhaps bit too much, however. I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At first, I thought it was only gas which could have been passed in batches right at the table without to much concern. Unfortunately, that was not to be. After a minute or so it was clear that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines far faster than the food which spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress... I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good shit, but in this case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagional wirecutters is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a shit. I went to the normal stall.
In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under the circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical proportions. I began "The Move." For those women who may be reading this, let me take a moment to explain "The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to position ones ass toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of shit at the exact same second that ones ass is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that the choad is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet dancer. I was about half-way into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards attending kids night; it was mounded up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall. Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up for a rematch. What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can. In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from the goings-on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crotched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precidence over shit no matter what is about to come slamming out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary thing since shitting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus diverted. At that very split second, my ass exploded in what can only be described as a wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of "30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of shit the consistancy of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ass. But remember, I was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The shit wave was of such force and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat that it ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall at an angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initally hit the toilet seat. Then I sat down. Recall that when that event occured, I was already half-way to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no return. I have always considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may be. Needless to say, the shit wave, though of considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the walls, unlike what you would see when hitting a puddle with a high-pressure water hose; even though you throw water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to re-form a puddle. There was a significant amount of shit remaining on about one-third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon. Now, back to the vomit... While all the shitting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I had just consumed. OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting? One bends over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly-opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles? In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were deposited in my pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet. In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in shit that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a height of about five feet, and still had enough force to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid shit. All while thick shit was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat. And there was no fucking toilet paper. What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was OK since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the manager. And told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask my wife to come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left. At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my pants or something similarly benign. About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom not knowing what was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in her voice. I explained to her (still laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help. Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she probably assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just needed to being the car around so we could bolt immediately. Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was about to go across the street and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage around the elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers. And she then started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began to ask for an explanation as to what had happened when I promised her that I would tell her later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time being. She left. The manager then came back in with a half-dozen wet towels and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned. Without giving him specific details, I explained that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks working at Ryan's making minimum wage of just slightly above. At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the situation. Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose. Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom. He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels. Just as I was finishing, my wife got back with the new clothes and passed them into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store, handing the bag to my wife. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad taste to go out of the stall to get redressed in the event I happened to be standing there naked and some little bastard kid walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet committed a felony and intended to keep it that way. When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my wife was now waiting to pick me up by the front door. The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten.

The greatest lovers from England, America and France were in a contest to determine who was the world's greatest lover. First question was to the Englishman: "If you are on a first date with a woman and you want to kiss her, where do you kiss her?" Englishman: "On her lips." Judge: "Thats right." Second question was to the American: "If you are on a second date with a woman and you want to kiss her, where do you kiss her?" American: "On her breasts." Judge: "Thats right." Third question was to the Frenchman: "If you are on the third date with a woman and you want to kiss her, where do you kiss her?" Frenchman: "Don't ask me, I missed both of those first two questions."

This 8 year old little boy saddles up to the bar. "Hey, sweetie," he says to the well endowed waitress, "how about a Scotch on the rocks?" She says, "Uh huh. Are you trying to get me in trouble?" "Maybe later, honey -- but now I could really use that drink."

A priest, rabbi and televangelist were playing their usual Wednesday round of golf, and started discussing their weekly collections. Specifically, they started to compare how they decided what portion of the collection to keep for themselves and what portion to give to God. The rabbi explains: "I draw a circle around myself and toss the money in the air. Whatever lands in the circle I keep for myself. What ever lands outside the circle, I give to God." The priest then adds: "I use a similar method, except that whatever lands in the circle I give to God, and whatever lands outside the circle I keep for my personal needs." The televangelist then proclaims: "I also use the same method. Except, that I toss the money in the air and I figure that whatever God wants, he can take."

I know this guy whose neighbor, a young man, was home recovering from having actually been served a rat in his bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken. So anyway, one day he went to sleep and when he awoke he was in his bathtub and it was full of ice and he was sore all over. When he got out of the tub he realized that HIS KIDNEYS HAD BEEN STOLEN and he saw a note on his mirror that said "Call 911!" But he was afraid to use his phone because it was connected to his computer, and there was a virus on his computer that would destroy his hard drive if he opened an e-mail entitled "Good Times, Join the crew!" He knew it wasn't a hoax because he himself was a computer programmer who was working on software to save us from Armageddon when the year 2000 rolls around. His program will prevent a global disaster in which all the computers get together and distribute the $600 Neiman Marcus cookie recipe under the leadership of Bill Gates. (It's true-I read it all last week in a mass e-mail from BILL GATES HIMSELF, who was also promising me a free Disneyworld vacation and $5,000 if I would forward the e-mail to everyone I know.) The poor man then tried to call 911 from a pay phone to report his missing kidneys, but reaching into the coin-return slot he got jabbed with an HIV- infected needle around which was wrapped a note that said, "Welcome to the world of AIDS." Luckily, he was only a few blocks from the hospital -the one, actually, where that little boy who is dying of cancer is, the one whose last wish is for everyone in the world to send him an e-mail and the American Cancer Society has agreed to pay him a nickel for every e-mail he receives. I sent him two e-mails and one of them was a bunch of x's and o's in the shape of an angel (if you get it and forward it to twenty people you will have good luck, but forward it to only ten people you will only have ok luck, and if you send it to less than ten people you will have BAD LUCK FOR SEVEN YEARS). So anyway the poor guy tried to drive himself to the hospital, but on the way he noticed another car driving along without his headlights on. To be helpful, he flashed his lights at him and was promptly shot as part of a gang initiation. And it's a little-known fact that the Y1K problem caused the Dark Ages.

Two fellows are running a store and decide to have a big blow-out clearance sale. Within 3 hours, everything is sold from the store. The one fellow says to the other, "Well, what now? We've sold everything." The other replies, "Dont worry, there's this newfie who comes in here everyday. We'll have a few laughs on him." Sure enough, about 15 minutes later, newf comes walking in , hands in pockets, looking around. "Tell me lads", asks the newfie, "what have ya for sale today?" One of the fellows says, "Well we're having a sale on arseholes!" Newfie says, "Well ya must be doing pretty good, ya only got two left!"

A man walks into a book store and asks the clerk if she could tell him where the "self-help" area is. She replied, "Of course I can, but that would defeat the purpose, now wouldn't it?"

I know a few guys who always get together on Fridays after work. One Friday, Dave showed up particularly late, sat down at the bar, and kicked back his entire first beer in one gulp. Then he turned and said, "Times they are getting tough. I mean, just today, my wife told me that she's going to cut me back to only two times a week! I can't believe it." At which point Bob put his hand on Dave's shoulder and said reassuringly, "You think you've got it bad, she's cut me out all together."

Little Johnny's teacher sent a note home to his Mother saying, "Johnny seems to be a very bright boy, but spends too much of his time thinking about sex and girls." The Mother wrote back the next day, "If you find a solution, please advise. I have the same problem with his Father."

What's the difference between light and hard? You can sleep with a light on.

Why do women rub their eyes when they get out of bed. Because, they don't have balls to scratch.

Why is sex like a bridge game? You don't need a partner if you have a good hand.

What's the definition of mixed emotions? When you see your mother-in-law backing off a cliff in your new car.

What's the height of conceit? Having an orgasm and calling out your own name.

What's the definition of macho? Jogging home from your own vasectomy.

What do a Christmas tree and a priest have in common? Their balls are just for decoration.

Why don't blind people like to sky dive? Because it scares the hell out of the dog.

How do you double the value of a Yugo? You fill it with gas.

What's the difference between roast beef and pea soup? Anyone can roast beef.

Why do we shake hands?
This question's exact answer is probably lost to antiquity, but folklore offers a speculative explanation of the custom. In ancient times, when people routinely carried daggers, two men who wanted to reassure each other of their benevolent intentions would extended their right hands-- their weapon hands--to show that they weren't wielding daggers. For extra protection, they would then hold each other's right hand until each was sure that he was dealing with a friend. Women, who rarely carried weapons, didn't need to go through this routine, which explains why they didn't develop the custom until recently.

What kind of animal can see in the infrared?
Snakes in the pit viper family (Crotalidae) can see in the infrared! These snakes, which include rattlesnakes and copperheads, have small, heat-sensitive pits below their eyes. Information from these sense organs is combined with visual data to give the snake heat-sensing vision. A rattlesnake can strike a warm-blooded target accurately, even if its eyes are covered. Like a pinhole camera, the heat-sensing pit has no lens, only a tiny hole and highly sensitive tissue lining the back wall.

Having had one too many, a bar drinker was beginning to display an ugly side. An unescorted female sat down beside him, and he whispered to her, "Hey! How about it babe? You and me?" As she got up to move, he said loudly, "Honey, you sure look like you could use the money, but I don't have two dollars." She looked back and replied just as loudly, "What makes you think I charge by the inch ?"

The minister, all fired up because of recent obvious problems of infidelity, shouted out, "I want everyone who has been heing and sheing to stand up!" Half of his congregation stood up. He then shouted out, "I want everyone who has been heing and heing to stand up!" A couple of men stood up. He then shouted out, "I want everyone who has been sheing and sheing to stand up!" Several women stood up. The minister looked over his congregation and noticed that everyone was standing except Little Johnny. The minister shouted out, "Brothers and Sisters, look at Little Johnny, can he be the only one without sin? Little Johnny, stand up.....I guess you are the only one here who isn't preoccupied with sex and committing sins. What do you have to say!" Little Johnny replied, "Reverend, you ain't said nothing about meing and meing!"