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Pastimes : Laughter is the Best Medicine - Tell us a joke -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Edwarda who wrote (13833)	3/20/2000 12:37:00 AM
From: Peter S. Maroulis	Respond to of 62551

Why It's Great To Be A Guy... Your butt is never a factor in a job interview. Your orgasms are real. Always. Your last name stays put. The garage is all yours. Nobody secretly wonders if you swallow. Wedding plans take care of themselves. You don't have to curl up next to a hairy ass every night. Chocolate is just another snack. You can be president. You can wear a white shirt to a water park. Foreplay is optional. You never feel compelled to stop a friend from getting laid Car mechanics tell you the truth. You don't give a rat's ass if someone notices your new haircut. The world is your urinal. Hot wax never comes near your pubic area. You never have to drive to another gas station because this one's just too icky. Same work... more pay. Wrinkles add character. You don't have to leave the room to make emergency crotch adjustments. Wedding Dress $2000; Tux rental $100. If you retain water, it's in a canteen. People never glance at your chest when you're talking to them. Princess Di's death was just another obituary. The occasional well-rendered belch is practically expected. New shoes don't cut, blister, or mangle your feet. Porn movies are designed with you in mind. Not liking a person does not preclude having great sex with them. Your pals can be trusted never to trap you with: "So, notice anything different?" One mood, all the time.

To: Edwarda who wrote (13833)	3/21/2000 7:46:00 AM
From: Peter S. Maroulis	Read Replies (4) \| Respond to of 62551

AN ACCIDENT AT THE BREWERY: Brenda O'Malley is home making dinner as usual, when Tim Finnegan arrives at her door. "Brenda, may I come in?" he asks. "I've somethin' to tell ya." "Of course, you can come in. You're always welcome, Tim. But where's my husband?" "That's what I'm here to be tellin' ya, Brenda. There was an accident down at the Guiness Brewery." "Oh, God no!" cries Brenda. "Please don't tell me..." "I must, Brenda. Your husband Shamus is dead and gone. I'm sorry." Finally, she looks up at Tim. "How did it happen, Tim?" "It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat of Guiness Stout and drowned." "Oh my dear Jesus! But you must tell me true, Tim. Did he at least go quickly?" "Well, no Brenda, no." "No?!" "Fact is, he got out three times to pee."