The fact that there's a highway to hell and a stairway to heaven says a lot about the anticipated traffic flow.
The fact that there's a highway to hell and a stairway to heaven says a lot about the anticipated traffic flow.
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The Smiths were unable to Conceive Children and decided to use a Surrogate Father, to start their Family.
On the day the Proxy Father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his Wife goodbye and said,
"Well, I’m off now Love. The Man should be here very soon".
Half an hour later, just by chance, a Door-to-Door, Baby Photographer happened to ring the Doorbell, hoping to make a Sale..???
"Good morning, Ma’am", he said, "I’ve come to"…
"Oh, no need to explain". Mrs. Smith cut in, embarrassed, "I’ve been expecting you".
"Have you really"..?? said the Photographer.
"Well, that’s good. Did you know Babies are my Specialty"..???
"Well that’s what my Husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a Seat"..
After a moment she asked, blushing,
"Well, where do we start"..???
"Leave everything to me.. I usually try Two in the Bathtub, One on the Couch, and perhaps a Couple on the Bed. And sometimes the Living Room Floor is fun. You can really spread out there"..
"Bathtub, Living Room Floor..??? No wonder it didn’t work out for Harry and me"...
"Well, Ma’am, none of us can guarantee a Good One every time. But if we try Several Different Positions and I shoot from Six or Seven Angles, I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the Results"..
"My, that’s a lot".. , gasped Mrs. Smith.
"Ma’am, in my Line of Work, a Man has to take his time. I’d love to be In and Out in Five Minutes, but I’m sure you’d be disappointed with that"..
"Don’t I know it", said Mrs. Smith quietly.
The Photographer opened his Briefcase and pulled out a Portfolio of his Baby Pictures.
"This was done, on the Top of a Bus". he said "Oh, My Good God"..’ Mrs. Smith exclaimed, grasping at her Throat.
"And these Twins turned out exceptionally well – when you consider their Mother was so difficult to work with"..
‘She Was Difficult"..??? asked Mrs. Smith.
"Yes, I’m afraid so. I finally had to take her to the Park to get the job done right. People were crowding around Four and Five Deep to get a really good look"..
"Four and Five Deep"..??? said Mrs. Smith, her eyes wide with amazement.
"YES", the Photographer replied.
"And for more than Three Hours, too. The Mother was constantly Squealing and Yelling – I could hardly concentrate, and when darkness approached I had to rush my shots. Finally, when the Squirrels began Nibbling on my Equipment, I just had to pack it all in"..
Mrs. Smith leaned forward.
"Do you mean, they actually chewed on your, Uhh. Equipment"..???
"It’s True, Ma’am, Yes.. Well, if you’re ready, I’ll set-up my Tripod and we can get to work right away"..
"TRIPOD"..?!?!?
‘Oh Yes, Ma’am. I need to use a Tripod, to Rest my Canon on".
"It’s much Too Big, to be held in the Hand for very long"..
Mrs. Smith fainted
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I had lunch with 2 of my unmarried friends.
One is engaged, one is a mistress, and I, the third one, have been married for 20+ years.
We were chatting about our relationships and decided to amaze our men by greeting them at the door wearing a black bra, stiletto heels and a mask over our eyes.
We agreed to meet in a few days to exchange notes.
Here’s how it all went.
My engaged friend:
The other night when my boyfriend came over he found me with a black leather bodice, tall stilettos, and a mask. He saw me and said, ‘You are the woman of my dreams…I love you.’ Then we made passionate love all night long.
The mistress:
'Me too! The other night I met my lover at his office and I was wearing a raincoat, under it only the black bra, heels and mask over my eyes. When I opened the raincoat he didn’t say a word, but he started to tremble and we made wild love all night.'
Then I had to share my story:
'When my husband came home I was wearing the black bra, black stockings, stilettos and a mask over my eyes. When he came in the door and saw me he said,
“What’s for dinner, Zorro?”'
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Please consider Premium Membership. Without Premium Member contributions Austech cannot operate.
Latest Contestant (a tad cryptic, for those old enough)
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Eve: Adam, are we white or are we black?
Adam: I don't know. I'll ask God. Hey God! Are we white or are we black?
God: You ARE what you ARE.
Adam: Yep, thought so. We're white.
Eve: How do you know?
Adam: Because God didn't say You IS what you IS.
The fact that there's a highway to hell and a stairway to heaven says a lot about the anticipated traffic flow.
Death smiles at everyone. Grumpy old men smile back.
I took my son out for his first beer.
Got him a VB. He didn't like it, so I drank it.
Then I got him a Heineken. He didn't like that either, so I had it.
It was the same with both the Guinness and the Cider.
By the time we got onto the bourbon, I could hardly push the pram.
The fact that there's a highway to hell and a stairway to heaven says a lot about the anticipated traffic flow.
BMW drivers are taking pride month a bit seriously.
This one's been up my arse for 15 kilometers!
The fact that there's a highway to hell and a stairway to heaven says a lot about the anticipated traffic flow.
The fact that there's a highway to hell and a stairway to heaven says a lot about the anticipated traffic flow.
The fact that there's a highway to hell and a stairway to heaven says a lot about the anticipated traffic flow.
A guy was attending the funeral of his best friend. He asked the guy’s wife if he could stand up and say a word.
She said he could.
So he stood up and said “Plethora.”
The wife then got back up and said “Thanks. That means a lot.”
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The fact that there's a highway to hell and a stairway to heaven says a lot about the anticipated traffic flow.
Death smiles at everyone. Grumpy old men smile back.
How Facebook rows among the mindless get started....
Jeff: Things not going too well, and I'm feeling a bit low.
Concerned: Don't worry my friend.
Jeff: I wasn't worrying your friend! I don't even know your f*cking friend, you wanker!
The fact that there's a highway to hell and a stairway to heaven says a lot about the anticipated traffic flow.
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