I'll never send you to the store for grapes!

How do you get a nun pregnant?

Reminds me of my favorite blonde joke back when I was.

How do you get a blonde pregnant? You fuck her. And you thought they were stupid!

My favorite joke that got me in many a frat party. Not clean and requires a southern accent.

Three southern belles are discussing their beaus, all of whom are named Bubba. This causes much confusion so they come up with a solution to nickname each one after a soda pop.

The first belle says, "Imma nickname my Bubba...7-Up, cause he's 7 inches long and always up!"

The second belle says, "Well Imma nickname mine Mountain Dew, cause that's all he wants to do is mount 'n do."

The third belle takes her time and after a while says, "I think I'll nickname my Bubba...Jack Daniels."

The other two exclaim, "Sweetie! You can't do that! That's not a soda pop, that's a hard liquor!"

And she says, "Yeah. I know!"

The topical joke that always made me crack up was:

What's the title of Salman Rushdie's new novel? Buddah, You Fat Fuck!

In my drama class in college, one of our first classes had everyone getting up and telling two jokes, and they had to be story-type jokes, not q&a ones. I told two I heard on "Dave Allen at Large" on PBS, complete with the appropriate Irish accent, and they both went over very well (unlike most of my joke telling), so I still pull them out every once in a while.

I always wish I could remember the "gesture debate" joke I knew in high school. It was religious.

The only joke I can tell anymore isn't a kids joke: A well-dressed gentleman is walking down the street when a bum asks him for some money. The gentleman says, "Neither a borrower nor lender be - Shakespeare." The bum replies, "Fuck you - Mamet."

That's one of my only ones too! Except it's longer and ends "Fuck you, you fucking fuck." - David Mamet

I also know a super long one about a rude clown that I don't have time to type up now.

What's the title of Salman Rushdie's new novel?

That's one of my faves....

ION, Rock Cats! Cat trainer Samantha Martin has felines jumping through hoops—when they feel like it, of course

It was just a half-hour before the opening of the sold-out show, and the normally close-knit band had completely fallen apart. The lead guitarist had shut herself in a dressing room and refused to come out. The pianist—in an apparent attempt to self soothe—groomed her hair obsessively. Meanwhile, the drummer had bolted off stage and hidden under the bleachers, where she ignored the pleas of two fawning assistants.Such temperamental, pre-show meltdowns have become typical of the Rock Cats, a trio that––even their manager admits––is known more for their looks than their rock 'n' roll talent.

"Their music sucks. I mean, when they're playing, they're not even playing the same song," said Samantha Martin, the band's manager, who stood at the edge of the stage wearing a black velvet body suit and a headband topped with felt cat ears. "I don't think they realize they're supposed to play together."

Yet fans are flocking to see the band. T-shirts and buttons are flying off the shelves. Tickets to shows at the Gorilla Tango Theatre have become among the hottest in town.

And once again, Martin had found herself at the mercy of the increasingly high-strung, unpredictable performers: namely 13 cats—mostly orphans and strays—who walk the high wire, roll the barrel, ride a skateboard, leap to platforms and, of course, play miniature musical instruments.

...

For the grand finale, the Rock Cats took to their instruments, drawing ooohs and ahhhs from the crowd. Amid the waves of applause stood Martin, resplendent in her velvet cat suit.

After the show ended and the crowd rushed forward for photos, someone asked Martin if she ever regrets getting involved with the cats.

"No, not at all," she said, feeding the guitarist some tuna. "Because, when it works, it's a great thing. It's something that no one else is doing. There aren't a lot of people who are excited about getting up in front of a crowd and being humiliated by a bunch of cats. So, you know, I feel like I've got a corner on the market."

I couldn't resist typing one of my Irish jokes up, even though it's pretty long:

One day, a Dublin man is walking home from work. As he approaches his front gate, he sees a leprechaun sitting there! He sneaks up behind the leprechaun, grabs him, and says, “Gimme your pot of gold!”

The leprechaun replies, “But I’m not a pot-of-gold leprechaun; I’m a three-wish leprechaun!”

The man says, “Whaddya mean, three-wish leprechaun?”

The leprechaun says, “I can grant you any three wishes you want, but I have to warn you that anything you ask for, I have to give twice as much to your worse enemy in the world who I happen to know is McGillicuddy, who lives across the street from you.”

The man thinks and agrees. The leprechaun says, “What do you want for your first wish?”

The man says, “I want a beautiful twenty-room mansion.” And voomp! There it was. But across the street was old McGillicuddy, standing on the front porch of a forty room mansion, saying, “God love ya, man!!”

The leprechaun says, “What do you want for your second wish?”

The man says, “I want twelve of the most gorgeous women in the world with me.” And voomp! He had stunning beauties of every size and hue around him. But across the street was old McGillicuddy with twenty-four drop-dead lookers, saying “I didn’t know you cared so much, man!!”

The leprechaun says, “What do you want for your third and final wish?”

The man says, “I want my desire for women cut in half.”

My brother was good at telling the long jokes with groaner punch lines. He had one about three rabbits named Foot, Foot Foot, and Foot Foot Foot and another involving a Funny Talker's Convention (which had a visual setup).

My minivan needs a new power steering rack. It's $700. It could be worse but the van has less than 49K on it. Feh. Still, explains the annoying noise when I turn.