A nun, badly needing to use the restroom, walked into a local Hooters.

The place was hopping with music and loud conversation and every once in a while “the lights would turn off.”

Each time the lights would go out, the place would erupt into cheers.

However, when the revelers saw the nun, the room went dead silent.

She walked up to the bartender, and asked, “May I please use the restroom?

The bartender replied, “OK, but I should warn you that there is a statue of a naked man in there wearing only a fig leaf.”

“Well, in that case, I’ll just look the other way,” said the nun.

So the bartender showed the nun to the back of the restaurant.

After a few minutes, she came back out, and the whole place stopped just long enough to give the nun a loud round of applause. !

She went to the bartender and said, “Sir, I don’t understand. Why did they applaud for me just because I went to the restroom?”

“Well, now they know you’re one of us,” said the bartender, “Would you like a drink?”

“No thank you, but, I still don’t understand,” said the puzzled nun.

“You see,” laughed the bartender, “every time someone lifts the fig leaf on that statue, the lights go out.

Now, how about that drink?”

The Pope dies and, naturally, he goes to heaven. He’s met by St. Peter at the Pearly Gates and, after a whirlwind tour, is told that he can enjoy any of the myriad recreations available. He decides he’s going to read all the ancient original texts of the Holy Scriptures. After an eon or so to learn the languages, he sits down in the library to pore over every version of The Bible. Suddenly there is a scream in the library. The angels come running, only to find he Pope huddled in a chair, crying to himself, muttering, “‘R!’ They left out the ‘R!'” God takes him aside, offers him comfort and asks him about the problem. The Pope sobs again, “It’s the letter ‘R’… the word was ‘CELEBRATE!'”

The nunnery was only a block away from Jack’s Liquor Store. One day, in walked Sister Mary Katherine. “Hello, Jack. give me a pint o’ the brandy.” “Sister Mary Katherine,” exclaimed Jack, “I can no’ do that! I can’t sell alcohol to a nun!” “Oh, Jack,” she responded, “it’s for the Mother Superior.” Her voice dropped, “For her constipation, don’t you know?” So Jack sold her the brandy. That night, as Jack walked home, he passed the nunnery, and spied Sister Mary Katherine on the sidewalk, snookered out of her gourd, singing, dancing, whirling around, flapping her arms like a bird. Jack pushed through the gathering crowd. “Sister Mary Katherine! For shame! And you said it was for Mother Superior’s constipation!” Sister Mary Katherine didn’t miss a beat. “And so it is, me lad, so it is. When she sees me drunk-as-a-skunk, she’s gonna sh*t!”