Another Friday Funny

[webbrent]

@ JFZ WAHAHAHAAHHAA!!!

[Kassie]

Why did Oscar kill Reeva?

Oscar: "What's that you're drinking boo?"

Reeva: "It's a Sterri (gulp swallow) Stumpie."

Oscar: "WTF did you just call me?!!!!??!!"

BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM

[Riprap]

Ja Jim, haha!

Thought for the day: There's a way of transferring funds that is even faster than electronic banking. It's called marriage. :eusa_doh:

[Kassie]

[Riprap]

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[Bombasstic]

I am getting quite pissed off :eusa_whistle: with the constant attack on Oscar. Foietog, he thinks he is going to get off but I don't think he has got a leg to stand on.

[Kassie]

[Riprap]

Speaking of dances, the last dance I was at I won the dance trophy but all I was doing was crossing the dance floor to get to the pub for another drink...........

[Bergie]

That Sounds about right......

[Kassie]

From: The International Council of Man Laws.

1. Under no circumstances may two men share an umbrella.

2. It is OK for a man to cry ONLY under the following circumstances:
(a) When a heroic dog dies to save its master.
(b) The moment Angelina Jolie starts unbuttoning her blouse.
© After wrecking your boss's car.
(d) When she is using her teeth.

3. Any man who brings a camera to a stag night may be legally killed and eaten by his friends.

4.If you've known a guy for more than 24 hours, his sister is off limits forever unless you actually marry her.

5. Moaning about the brand of free beer in a buddy's fridge is forbidden. However complain at will if the temperature is unsuitable.

6. No man shall ever be required to buy a birthday present for another man. In fact, even remembering your buddy's birthday is strictly optional. At that point, you must celebrate at a strip bar of the birthday boy's choice.

7. In the mini-bus, the strongest bladder determines pit stops, not the weakest.

8. When stumbling upon other guy watching a sporting event, you may ask the score of the game in progress, but you may never ask who's playing.

9. You may fart in front of a woman only after you have brought her to climax. If you trap her head under the covers for the purpose of flatulent entertainment (commonly known as a Dutch oven), she's officially your girlfriend.

10. It is permissible to drink a fruity alcohol drink only when you're sunning on a tropical beach ... and it's delivered by a topless model and only when it's free.

11. Only in situations of moral and/or physical peril are you allowed to kick another guy in the nuts.

12. Unless you're in prison, never fight naked.

13. Friends don't let friends wear Speedos. Ever. Issue closed.

14. If a man's fly is down, that's his problem, you didn't see anything.

15. Women who claim they 'love to watch sports' must be treated as spies until they demonstrate knowledge of the game and the ability to drink as much as the other sports watchers.

16. A man in the company of a hot, suggestively dressed woman must remain sober enough to fight.

17. Never hesitate to reach for the last beer or the last slice of pizza, but not both, that's just greedy.

21. Never allow a telephone conversation with a woman to go on longer than you are able to have sex with her. Keep a stopwatch by the phone. Hang up if necessary.

22. The morning after you and a girl who was formerly 'just a friend' have carnal, drunken monkey sex. The fact that you're feeling weird and guilty is no reason for you not to nail each other again before the discussion occurs about what a big mistake it was.

23. It is acceptable for you to drive her car. It is not acceptable for her to drive yours.

24. Thou shall not buy a car in the colors of brown, pink, lime green, orange or sky blue.

25. The girl who replies to the question 'What do you want for Christmas?' with 'If you loved me, you'd know what I want!' gets an Xbox. End of story.

26. There is no reason for guys to watch Ice Skating or Men's Gymnastics. Ever.

27. We've all heard about people having GUTS or BALLS. But do you really know the difference between them? In an effort to keep you informed, the definition of each is listed below:

"GUTS" is arriving home late after a night out with the guys, being assaulted by your wife with a broom, and having the guts to say, 'are you still cleaning or are you flying somewhere?'

"BALLS" is coming home late after a night out with the guys smelling of perfume and beer, lipstick on your collar, slapping your Wife squarely on the @$$ and having the balls to say, 'You're next fatty!'

I hope this clears up any confusion,
The International Council of Man Laws

[Jim_From_Zim]

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[Jim_From_Zim]

Happy Easter everyone...
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[Kassie]

I'm a new fisherman.

I'm not ashamed to say it.
My biggest fish is a gully shark...most anglers would consider it a pest.
I've only caught four Shad (Elf) in my entire life.
I've caught blacktails and streepies by the hundreds.
So I thought "It's time to become a man. It's time to grow up. It's time to catch the Big One. It's time for the puppy to become a dog."

I tried to catch a musselcracker a month ago, but I fell on the rocks, broke the tip of my rod, cut my left shin and lost one of my slops which went floating out to sea on a rip current. If anyone knows Kini Bay, in PE, they'll know that's something you don't want to do.
I had to walk 2km back on rocks and "beach" (not sandy beach, no, no. I had to endure the remains of thousands of skeletons of our crustacean friends sticking their probes into my right foot.) to my car.

But I'm going to be a pro so I bought gumboots and cut them like the shop-keeper told me to.

NOW I'm a fisherman. Slops are a rookie mistake. But I've grown up.
Now that Big One will be mine...Oh Yes!...it will be mine.

So I went back to Kini Bay...with my new Boots.

Saw a real pro fishing (Gulp!)...I tried my best to look like a pro, too.
Saw him catch a Streepie (Carenteen) in the gully.
No problem...I can do that.
So I pull out my small rod and catch a Streepie.
It’s fat. The pro says I must put it back 'coz it's pregnant. (Do fish get pregnant?)
I'm an amateur, don't want to argue. So I put it back.

No problem, I have pilchards.

(The Pro in the meantime has cast his live bait with masterful cast sending the fish halfway to Antartica.)

I pull out my Big 13ft Rod. (Well, it was big till the tip broke off last month).
Now it's a 11ft rod. What difference will that make?

The pro has hooked a shark and is busy reeling it in. Great to see the shadow in the water. Says a must be 30kg. (How can he tell?) But the shark fights dirty and the pro loses the shark on the rocks. I laugh at him on the inside.

My heart starts to beat a bit faster. I tie my line with a steel trace, 8/0 hook,
sliding sinker and the necessary knots look good. I'm the pro now.

The pro has already put another streepie on and sends it beautifully into the Deep Blue Abyss. My turn to cast. My palms start to sweat. I have a multiplier (Penn) reel. Not used to it. I've always used a coffee-grinder, but that was when I was a rookie. "Remember, Sparrow, you're a pro now." I tell myself. The pro is very friendly. He asks me if I'm right-handed or left.
What difference does that make?

"Right!" I shout. He seems satisfied as I stand on the right of him.

The time is now. No pressure. Here we go.

I cast a beauty. It sails high in the air. My thumb just holding the line against the reel, allowing a perfect spinning action. I'm even impressed by myself! Life is great. The Pilchard lands with a great splash about 13 meters away, just making it over the gully's ledge. Huh? (the tip of the rod, it turns out, is VERY important.)

So I don't want to look like a complete toss. I start to take up the slack.

"Ahhemmmmm!" grunts the pro with a funny smile on his face.

I look up.
OH NO!!! I've crossed his line.
Now I have to clamber over the rocks to get to his left side. My rod is too short. I have to pull a Mr. Bean and stretch on my tippy toes (ballerina like) to get my 11ft rod over his 14ft rod. Plus I'm short, he's not. My wife is canning herself on the beach. (She's smart. She's in a bikini, tanning and getting a free show.)

In the meantime my bait has been chewed off by the streepies. My line is caught in the rocks, but I want to wait a bit to get some dignity back.

So I stand there, waiting (for nothing). My hook is a mere 11 meters from me now; next to the pro, who is having to navigate his bait through the shipping lanes of the South Atlantic Ocean.

Then a big wave comes. No problem. I have boots.
I take a step back to get a good grip on the rocks.

Whoops! I'm gone.

There's a gully behind me about 2m wide and I've fallen
in it. The pro who was having a decent conversation with me looks round to see I've disappeared quicker than Houdini. The wave comes over the rocks, and I'm gasping for air. I've still got my rod, though. Like I said. I'm a pro.

After a moment or two I clamber up the rocks and take my "stand" again. Looking like a drowned rat. My boots are filled with water. Turns out you have to cut holes in the side to let the water out.
I look at the pro. His boots have a little bit of water on them, but that's it.
Grumble to myself. He tries to be kind and tell me how he fell off a rock once. (but it was night time and dark and so he couldn't see the gully.)
Doesn't really count and it doesn't make me feel any better. My T-shirt is sucking me like teenager's first kiss, and my boep is more pronounced than ever. The pro has no T-shirt on, and catching a tan. He has a build like Rocky. I hate rocks! I grumble to myself again.
He asks (politely)" Are you okay?.

"I'm FINE!"

"Are you sure? Your leg is bleeding."

I look down to see blood gushing out my shin.
The water makes it look really bad. Ow! Now the pain hits me.

Sack! Gotta get back to shore. So I reel in my line. Snagged!
I'm hooked....on a rock. I've got 30lb line (for the Big One) so I have to give a real pull to break it. I do the "line-over-the-arm" thing and walk back.
The line stretches and I can't go back any more, because of The Gully, so the line pulls me back like an elastic band. I have to try really hard to not fall.
But I hold my balance in the end. I'm a pro, after all.

Reel in the line really, really tight. Walk back and...SNAP!
I rocket backwards and gotta try really hard to keep my balance to prevent myself from having a reunion with the Gully.
Blood sprays all over the rocks, but at least I still have my rod!

Wish the pro well as I walked, head down, back to "base". Unfortunately my wife is there and killing herself laughing.
I COULD HAVE DIED!
She manages to bring herself together to give me some sympathy for the cut. Pack up my rod and and take out the small rod.
I'm a fisherman, after all.

Streepies and Blacktail....here I come! :eusa_boohoo:

[Navrik]

New sport...Iron Woman

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[Jim_From_Zim]

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