Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Potluck II

I had so much fun posting those other jokes, I thought I'd add some more.

I read an article in LA Times a few years ago about a man who had ‘acrotomophilia’, which is a sexual desire to have one of his limbs removed. The man found a doctor in Mexico (of course) who would remove a limb for his sexual satisfaction. What was that surgery like? Was he getting one arm cut off while he whacked off with the other? And let’s say it was the single greatest experience of his entire life. Now what? He can only do it up to 3 more times. Really only 2 ‘cause he has to have the free hand!

I read about these people who do body modification. Instead of getting a tattoo or a piercing, some of them are having a toe removed just to be cool. And now they are all judgmental toward the rest of us. “You with your corporate jobs, your monkey suits, your 10 toes! Capitalist pigs!”

I have lived in LA for 10 years, and I have never bought fruit from a guy on the side of the road. Why not? I give money to street people. I need fruit. Really, it’s a win- win.

Metrosexuals are fucking up my gaydar! My best friend Sally and I were out one night and these two guys kept looking at us. They were really really clean and well-kept. So, we couldn’t tell if they were gay. Fuck metrosexuality! If one of them needed a shave or to lose 20 lbs we would have known they were hitting on us!

My friend Rudy works at NASA and he asked if I wanted a tour. I said, “Sure, can I bring Kate?” He goes, “She’s British, right? I have to get more information on her first.” What is going on at NASA that I can see but Kate can’t see? Are they afraid she’s gonna stumble into the room where they faked the moonwalk? “We can fool the stupid Americans but a Brit could find us out.”

My friend’s boyfriend hired a private eye to follow her around and take pictures of her with other men. I told my husband, “I love you, but if you did that, I would divorce you.” He said, “Honey, I would never hire someone to spy on you! I would just do it myself.”

The healthcare in the California Prison system is so bad that the federal government just took it over. The man in charge of California prisons said, “Any healthcare a prisoner gets is good enough.” You hear that, Paris Hilton? You better keep your nose clean.

I’ve decided I need to get a passport. You know, in case I have to jump off this sinking ship in a hurry. Or in case the Evangelical Christians start going door to door collecting our vibrators and bongs.

My friend is dating a guy who says he’s a plushy. Then she found an animal mascot costume in his closet. That’s not a plushy; that’s a furry! I know my fetishes, and he's lying. You know your fantasy is fucked up when you pretend that it’s just jacking off into stuffed animals.

I heard on the radio that a study just came out that determined that people with kids are not as happy as people without kids. It was also found that the more kids you have, the less happy you are. This was also known as the “Duh!” report. They also determined that sex is nice.

Five minutes ago, the newscaster announced that an alligator escaped from the LA zoo, but they have not yet determined his motivation. What? Only in LA would an alligator ask, “What’s my motivation?” Turns out it was a publicity stunt on the part of the animal’s publicist because the alligator wants to be in Evan Almighty II.

I’m a loud- mouthed broad. I am a lot of bad words, a lot of labels they like to put on you to try to put you down and shut you up. I’m also a feminazi, a bleeding heart liberal, a heathen, a pinko commie, a druggie, a tree hugger, a bitch, a socialist, pro-baby killing, pro-prisoner, a dirty hippy, a slut, a troublemaker, a nigger lover, a fag hag, anti-American, anti-troops, French-loving, Al Queada sympathizer, a flag burner, a queer, a freak, a hedonist, a white trash hick, a pants-wearing, overbearing loud mouth broad. And, no, I will not keep my voice down!

I had jury duty last year. I didn’t try to get out of it because of the jokes I thought I’d get. Didn’t get a lot of jokes, but I did get a jury duty boyfriend. Hell, I was there 2 days! What else was I supposed to do? Don’t ever tell a judge you are a comedian! He became oddly fixated on that fact during the gang murder trail. He kept asking me all of these questions about my career—under oath! I had been bullshitting my new boyfriend out in the hall about how wildly successful I am. And now I couldn’t lie!

“What TV shows have you done, Juror # 9?”
“Um, just The Nashville Network, your honor.”
“Not Comedy Central? Why not?”
“I guess industry doesn’t like me, your honor.”
“You should be more animated like Dane Cook. Or get a puppet.”
“Dane Cook is whack, your honor.”
“We’d like to thank and dismiss Juror #9.”

I will not be in the case of the People vs. Homeboy, which really sucks because the defendant had a giant 46 tattooed on his face, so you know it would have been awesome!

My husband just got a vasectomy. He got special permission for me to be in the room. Lucky me! First, the doctor ripped back the sheet and said, “This will be easy. You have a nice big vas!” Did he just say my husband has a big dick? Then, the doctor kept chatting me up about comedy while he was sewing up my husband’s testicles.
“Wow! You’re a comedian. What’s that like?” Could this be less appropriate? The only thing that would be more inappropriate would be during a rape kit. “Ok, we’re going to get a vaginal swab…so, you do comedy, that’s fun! If we catch this guy, can you get me free tickets?” The urologist kept going on and on about free tickets. You’re a freaking doctor! You don’t have $10?

They finally caught the Westside rapist. Well, they are pretty sure they have the right guy because when they brought him in for questioning, he raped them.

I had to stop telling the Westside Rapist joke because it was a current event and it left the news. Then, one night I’m watching the news with my husband and the anchor man said, “We have a new rapist on the Westside.” And, I’m like, “Yes!! I can tell my joke again!” What the hell is wrong with me? I’m rooting for rapists at this point? I’m like “Keep raping on the Westside! Go rapist; go rapist!”

One of my friends is an editor at Hustler magazine. He gave me a copy because his name was in it. I thought, “I’m liberal, I can look at Hustler. I’ve seen Playboy.” Oh my God!! It is nothing like Playboy! The ads for Chicks with Dicks alone are enough to freak you out. Then my girl friend who is in the porn industry said, “I’m gonna be in the dirty Hustler this month.” There’s a dirty Hustler? What is going on in the dirty Hustler? Is it a pop up book? Is it like the Harry Potter pictures that move and we actually see the penetration?

I went on the road with this vegan comic. He didn’t eat meat or dairy or eggs or fish or sugar or white flour or food. But, he popped vitamins like crazy and ran 10 miles a day. I asked him once, “So how do you feel?” He said, “I feel pretty good.” Pretty good? Pretty good? I just had a quarter- pounder with cheese and a pack of Ho Hos; I feel pretty good, too. If I do all of that shit, I want to feel fucking GREAT!!

My vegan friend Lucy came over to my house and she brought her own food (which those people are prone to do). She had tofu shrimp. Well, not actual shrimp. She was very happy that they got the shape and texture of a shrimp down perfectly. I don’t get it. Why not just eat fruits and vegetables? Why eat veggie burgers and tofu shrimp? If vegans and vegetarians are so against eating meat, why are they pretending to eat meat? That would be like me pretending to pray.

I walked into Kaiser one day and overhead a female security guard telling a male security guard, “Oh yeah? Well, my motto is Fuck You!” Wow! That’s your motto? What the hell happened in your life? My motto is “Liquor before beer, have no fear.”

Fame is overrated. I mean think about Tori Spelling. When she was a teenager, she had a giant horse head. She should have been able to go through that shit in private. It’s one thing for the mean girl at school to call you Mr. Ed; it’s another thing for it to be on the cover of the Entertainment Weekly!

My husband and I both got copies of the new Harry Potter book, and I was about 100 pages ahead of him. I would get to a really sad part and start crying. He’d say, “What? What?” Me, crying, “I can’t tell you!” Then 100 pages later, he would yell “Not Dobby!”

One day I was looking at a box of Q-Tips and I saw that they had suggestions of how to use the Q-Tip, but not once do they mention to put them in your ears. Also, if you ask a doctor, they will tell you to never put a Q-Tip in your ear. But, have you EVER done anything else with a Q-Tip? You know that they know what you are doing with their product. There is an unwritten understanding between Johnson and Johnson and the consumer. Kind of a don’t ask don’t tell for cotton swabs.

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