A woman walked into an accountant’s office to get help her with filing her taxes.
The accountant said, “Before we begin, I’ll need to ask you a few questions.”
He gets her name, address, et cetera… And then asked, “What’s your occupation?”
She candidly replied, “I’m a prostitute.”
The accountant was somewhat taken aback, “Let’s try to re phrase that.”
“OK, I’m a high-end call girl,” she replied without hesitation.
“No,” said the accountant, “that still won’t work. Try again.”
They both think for a minute; then the woman said, “I’m an elite poultry farmer.”
The accountant asked, “What does poultry farming have to do with being a prostitute?”
“Well, I raised over a thousand cocks last year.”
A woman and a man are lying in bed next to each other when her phone rings.
She picks up, the man looks over at her and listens.
She is speaking in a cheery voice, “Hi, I’m so glad you called. Really? That’s wonderful.
I’m so happy for you. That sounds terrific. Great! Thanks. Okay. Bye bye.”
She hangs up, and the man asks, “Who was that?”
“Oh, she replies, “that was my husband telling me about the great time he’s having on his fishing trip with you.”
Down in the subway, a drunken man who smelled of beer sat down next to a priest.
The man’s tie was stained, his face was plastered with red lipstick, and a half-empty bottle of gin was sticking out of his torn coat pocket. He opened his newspaper and began reading.
After a few minutes the man turned to the priest and asked, “Say Father, what causes arthritis?”
The priest replies, “My son, it’s caused by loose living, being with cheap, wicked women, too much alcohol, contempt for your fellow man, sleeping around with prostitutes and lack of a bath.”
The drunk muttered in response, “Well, I’ll be damned.” Then returned to his paper.
The priest, thinking about what he had said, nudged the man and apologized. “I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to come on so strong. How long have you had arthritis?”
The drunk answered, “I don’t have it, Father. I was just reading here that the Pope does.”
A boy comes home from his first day at junior high school. The father asked, “What happened in school today?”
The boy says, “I learned how to multiply, and I had sex with my English teacher.”
The father beams. “What a milestone! You’re really growing up! We should celebrate. I tell you what, let’s get an ice cream sundae, and then we’ll go buy you that bike you’ve wanted and go for a bike ride together.”
The boy says, “That sounds great, dad; but could we hold off on the bike ride? My ass is sore as hell!”
Well, it’s been fun. We told a lot of jokes this year. Some better than others. Here’s a stinker for Christmas:
Three rednecks in Arkansas are out drinking and four wheeling on Christmas. They get drunk as a skunk, hit a tree, and all die and immediately go to heaven.
Saint Peter meets them at the Pearly Gates and tells them that unless they have something on their person that can correspond to the Christmas spirit, they’re doomed.
The first fella easily pulls out a set of keys and jingles them around & says, “These are the bells of Christmas!”
Saint Peter nods and says, “Enter!”
The second redneck looks a little panicked but pulls out a Bic lighter and says, flick “This is the Light of the World!”
Saint Peter says, “I see what you did there. Enter into your rest.”
The last fella is in a full on freak out, red faced and panicked. But the light bulb goes on and he reaches into his back pocket and produces a pair of women’s undies.
He looks pleased with himself and twirls them around on his finger.
Saint Peter says, “What in the world does this have to do with the Christmas spirit?”
The redneck replied, “These are Carol’s.”