A contest was held to see who could deliver the best toast.
Murphy won the contest for the best toast of the night, which was: “Here’s to the best years o’ me life, spent between the legs o’ me wife.”
When he got home, his wife asked him how the Toastmasters meeting went. “I won the contest for the best toast of the night,” he replied.
She then asked what his toast was. He said, “Here’s to the best years o’ me life, spent in church with me wife.” “How sweet of you to include me in your toast,” his wife replied.
While out shopping the following morning, Mrs. Murphy ran into the local policeman on the beat, who also attended the Toastmasters meetings.
“Mornin’ Mrs. Murphy,” he said. “That was a wonderful toast your husband gave last night. He won first prize.”
“Well, I’m afraid he wasn’t quite honest with the facts,” Mrs. Murphy replied. “He’s only been there twice. The first time he fell asleep, and the second time I had to pull him by the ears to make him come.”
As the groom entered the church, the best man noticed he had the biggest, brightest smile on his face. “Boy, you sure look happy to be getting married.” The groom replied, “Buddy, that’s because I just got the best blow job of my life and I’m here to marry the woman who gave it to me!” In another part of the church, the maid of honor told the bride, “You look happier than I’ve ever seen you.” The bride replied, “Honey, that’s because I just gave my last blow job!”
Travis had been rather upbeat lately. “What gives?” asked Jim. “Just loving life, Jim. Loving life,” he replied. “Health, togetherness, motivated children, lack of envy: that’s the recipe for a happy life. Plus, we’ve been having more sex than any time in our marriage.” “Wow, that’s pretty good after 25 years, Travis.” “Yes, it is,” he mused. “So much so that Marge has taken to calling it her ‘medicine’.” “Oh, yeah?” said Jim. “Is she swallowing it or taking it as a suppository? “
The Sunday School teacher asked her class, “Which part of the body gets to heaven first?” Little Suzi quickly raised her hand. “I think it’s your mind, teacher, because you have to have a mind to believe in God.” “Very good, Suzi.” Little Cathy’s hand went up. “I think it’s your heart, teacher, because God is all about love.” “Very good, Cathy.” Little Johnnie’s hand shot up. She thought, “Oh, no,” but called on him anyway. Little Johnnie said, “I think it’s your feet.” The teacher breathed a sigh of relief. “Why do you think people’s feet get to Heaven first, Johnny?” she asked. “Because last night, when I sneaked past my parents’ bedroom, my mom had her feet way up in the air and she was yelling, ‘Oh, God! I’m coming!'”
An elderly couple decides, “Tonight is the night.” She slips into something sexy and crawls into bed. He heads into the bathroom. She waits and waits until she can’t stand the suspense; she climbs out of bed, gets up, goes to the bathroom, and opens the door. She sees him bent over, trying to put on a condom. She giggles, “Honey, what are you doing? I’m 86 years old. There’s no way I can get pregnant!” He looks up at her and says, “I know, honey, but you know how dampness affects my arthritis!”
Which one of these sounds like your wife?
Three women were discussing their sex lives. The first said, “My husband is like a championship golfer: he’s spent the last ten years perfecting his stroke.” The second said, “My husband is like the Indianapolis 500 winner: he always gives me a couple hundred laps.” The third woman grimaced. “My husband is like an Olympic gold-medalist: he’s got his time down to under 40 seconds!”
Frank was bear hunting when he spotted a small brown bear and shot it. Suddenly there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see a big black bear standing on its hind legs. The black bear said, “You have two choices, pal: either I maul you to death or we have sex.” Frank quickly decided to bend over. Eventually he recovered and vowed revenge. He returned to the same spot, seeking that same black bear. And when he found it, he shot it. Suddenly, he felt another tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see a huge grizzly bear standing over him. The grizzly bear said, “Big mistake, buddy. You have two choices: either I maul you to death or we have sex.” Again, Frank thought it better to comply. Although he survived, it took months before he fully recovered, but when he did he headed back to the same woods, again seeking revenge. He managed to track down that very same grizzly bear and shot it, extracting his revenge. But another tap on his shoulder, another spin around, and there was a giant polar bear! The polar bear said, “Admit it, Frank. You don’t come here for the hunting, do you?”
An Irish golfer slices his tee shot into the woods. Looking for it, he finds it near a tiny man lying near a bush with this huge knot on his head. The golfer revives the leprechaun. When he awakes, he says, “I will grant you three wishes.” The man replies, “I want nothing from you. I’m just glad I didn’t hurt you.” and walks away. The leprechaun says, “He was a nice guy and, after all, he did catch me. I should do something nice for him. I’ll just give him the three most common wishes: unlimited money, a great golf game, and a great sex life.” A year later, the same golfer hits a great shot on the same hole on the same course, but decides to check out the woods anyway. Sure enough, there’s the same leprechaun. “How are you?” he asks. The leprechaun says, “I’m fine! How’s your golf game?” “It’s great! Every round Iâ€™m under par!” “I did that for you,” responds the leprechaun. “And how’s your financial condition?” “Amazing. Ever since I met you, every time I reach into my pocket, there’s money there.” “I did that for you, too!” responds the leprechaun. “So how’s your sex life?” Now the golfer looks at the ground. “Well, maybe once or twice a week.” The leprechaun is floored. “Once or twice a week?! That’s all?” “Well, that’s not too bad for a small town Catholic priest!”
An illegal immigrant picked up a hooker. “How much you charge?” “$100.” “You do it ‘Immigrant Style’?” “No.” “I pay $200 for Immigrant Style.” “No,” she said, not knowing what Immigrant Style was. “I pay $300.” “No.” “$400.” “No.” He worked his way up to $1,000 and she thought, “I’ve done it every other way possible; how bad could Immigrant Style be?” “Okay,” she agreed. They did it in every way and in every position for hours. When they were finally finished, the exhausted hooker said, “I was expecting something perverted or disgusting but that was fun! So what exactly is Immigrant Style?” The illegal immigrant replied, “Simple: You send bill to government!”
The old gentleman was aging more rapidly than he wanted. “Your gout seems to be getting worse,” said his doctor. “Therefore, I recommend that you give up smoking, drinking and sex.” “What!? Just so I can walk a little better?”