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Two boys are playing football in Central Park when one is attacked by a rabid rottweiler. Thinking quickly, the other boy rips a board off of a nearby fence, wedges it down the dog’s collar and twists, breaking the dog’s neck.
A reporter strolling by sees the incident, and rushes over to interview the boy.
“Young Giants Fan Saves Friend From Vicious Animal,” he writes in his notebook.
“But I’m not a Giants fan,” the little hero replies.
“Sorry, since we are in New York, I just assumed you were,” says the reporter.
“Little Jets Fan Rescues Friend From Horrific Attack,” he writes in his notebook.
“I’m not a Jets fan either,” the boy says.
“I assumed everyone in New York was either for the Giants or Jets. What team do you root for?” the reporter asks.
“I’m a Cowboys fan,” the child says.
The reporter starts a new sheet in his notebook and writes, “Little Redneck Maniac Kills Beloved Family Pet”.

(and the translation of what they mean!)

* I think of you as a brother.
(You remind me of that inbred banjo geek in “Deliverance.”)

* There’s a slight difference in our ages.
(I don’t want to do my DAD.)

* I’m not attracted to you in ‘that’ way.
(You ugly dork.)

* My life is too complicated right now.
(I don’t want you spending the night or else you may hear phone calls from all the other guys I’m seeing.)

* I’ve got a boyfriend.
(I prefer my male cat and 1/2 gallon Ben & Jerry’s ice cream.)

* I don’t date men where I work.
(I wouldn’t date you if you’re in the same *solar system*, much less the same building.)

* It’s not you, it’s me.
(It’s you.)

* I’m concentrating on my career.
(Even something as boring and unfulfilling as my job is better than dating you.)

* I’m celibate.
(I’ve sworn off the likes of you or I’d rather be gang raped by midgets or I’d rather drink turpentine and piss on a brush fire or when bats fly out of my butt.)

* Let’s be friends.
(I want you to stay around so I can tell you in excruciating detail about all the other men I meet and have sex with.)

Q. Why is it good to have a blonde passenger?
A. You get to park in the handicap zone.

WARNING, the consumption of alcohol may cause you to tell the same boring story over and over again until your friends want to smash your head in.

WARNING, the consumption of alcohol may lead you to believe that ex-lovers are really dying for you to telephone them at 4:00 AM.

WARNING, the consumption of alcohol may cause you to thay shings like thish.

WARNING, the consumption of alcohol may leave you wondering what happened to your pants.

WARNING, the consumption of alcohol may cause you to roll over in the morning and see something really scary (whose species and/or name you can’t remember).

WARNING, the consumption of alcohol is the leading cause of inexplicable rug burns on the forehead and knees.

WARNING, the consumption of alcohol may create the illusion that you are tougher, handsomer and smarter than some really, really big guy named Chuck.

WARNING, the consumption of alcohol may lead you to believe you are invisible.

WARNING, the consumption of alcohol may lead you to think people are laughing with you.

WARNING, the consumption of alcohol may cause an influx in the time-space continuum, whereby small (and sometimes large) gaps of time may seem to disappear.

WARNING, the consumption of alcohol may actually cause pregnancy.

Three women escaped from prison. One was a redhead, one a brunette, and one a blonde. They ran for miles until they came upon an old barn where they decided to hide in the hayloft and rest. When they climbed up, they found three large gunnysacks and decided to climb into them for camouflage.

About an hour later the sheriff and his deputy came into the barn. The sheriff told his deputy to go up and check out the hayloft. When he got up there the sheriff asked him what he saw and the deputy yelled back, “Just three gunnysacks.”

The sheriff told him to find out what was in them, so the deputy kicked the first sack, which had the redhead in it. She went, “Bow-wow”, so the deputy told the sheriff there was a dog in it.

Then he kicked the sack with the brunette in it. She went, “Meow”, so the deputy told the sheriff there was a cat in it.

Then he kicked the one with the blonde in it, and there was no sound at all. So he kicked it again, and finally the blonde said, “Potatoes.”



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