Angle Jokes

  • Funny Jokes

    This is the story of the night my ten-year-old cat, Rudy, got his head stuck in the garbage disposal. I knew at the time that the experience would be funny if the cat survived, so let me tell you right up front that he's fine. Getting him out wasn't easy, though, and the process included numerous home remedies, a plumber, two cops, an emergency overnight veterinary clinic, a case of mistaken identity, five hours of panic, and fifteen minutes of fame.

    My husband, Rich, and I had just returned from a vacation in the Cayman Islands, where I had been sick as a dog the whole time, trying to convince myself that if I had to feel lousy, it was better to do it in paradise. We had arrived home at 9 p.m., a day and a half later than we had planned because of airline problems. I still had illness-related vertigo, and because of the flight delays, had not been able to prepare the class I was supposed to teach at 8:40 the next morning. I sat down at my desk to think and around ten more...

    1. Every takeoff is optional. Every landing is mandatory.
    2. If you push the stick forward, the houses get bigger. If you pull the stick back, they get smaller. That is, unless you keep pulling the stick all the way back, then they get bigger again.
    3. Flying isn't dangerous. Crashing is what's dangerous.
    4. It's always better to be down here wishing you were up there than up there wishing you were down here.
    5. The ONLY time you have too much fuel is when you're on fire.
    6. The propeller is just a big fan in front of the plane used to keep the pilot cool. Because when it stops, you can actually watch the pilot start sweating.
    7. When in doubt, hold on to your altitude. No one has ever collided with the sky.
    8. A 'good' landing is one from which you can walk away. A 'great' landing is one after which they can use the plane again.
    9. Learn from the mistakes of others. You won't live long enough to make all of them yourself.
    10. You know you've landed more...

    1. Every takeoff is optional. Every landing is mandatory.
    2. If you push the stick forward, the houses get bigger. If you pull the stick back, they get smaller. That is, unless you keep pulling the stick all the way back, then they get bigger again.
    3. Flying isn't dangerous. Crashing is what's dangerous.
    4. It's always better to be down here wishing you were up there than up there wishing you were down here.
    5. The ONLY time you have too much fuel is when you're on fire.
    6. The propeller is just a big fan in front of the plane used to keep the pilot cool. When it stops, you can actually watch the pilot start sweating.
    7. When in doubt, hold on to your altitude. No one has ever collided with the sky.
    8. A 'good' landing is one from which you can walk away. A 'great' landing is one after which they can use the plane again.
    9. Learn from the mistakes of others. You won't live long enough to make all of them yourself.
    10. You know you've landed with more...

    A quick narrative. I always wanted a hopped up muscle car when I was younger. I couldn't afford one. Now I can, and I have one. It's a' 70 Mustang, and her name is Bessie. Bessie is the proto-typical juvenile, male-caveman, scratch yourself and drink cheap beer car. Chromed engine, dual exhaust, 250 horsepower, big tires.

    I'm driving Bessie on Beach Boulevard behind an ancient guy in a beat up truck. He decides to turn in front of me without a blinker. I accelerate to swerve and avoid him, and this crazy, over aerobicized woman jumps in front of my car with her hand up. Meet Ethel, the neighborhood busybody/nuisance.

    She proceeds to yell in my window, "Hey, slow down you idiot." I'm a well-bred, mellow guy by nature, so I ignore this. As I drive away, she yells, "Jerk" at me again. Twice? I turn around and drive up next to her.

    "Do you have a problem?" I ask.

    "Yeah, why are you driving like an more...

    A quick narrative. I always wanted a hopped up muscle car when I was younger. I couldn't afford one. Now I can, and I have one. It is a '70 Mustang, and her name is Bessie. Bessie is the prototypical juvenile, male-caveman, scratch your crotch and drink cheap beer car. Chromed engine, dual exhaust, 250 horsepower, big tires, tra la la la.
    I'm driving Bessie on Beach Boulevard behind an ancient guy in a beat up truck. He decides to turn in front of me without a blinker. I accelerate to swerve and avoid him, and this assh*le, overaerobicized woman jumps in front of my car with her hand up.
    Meet Ethel, the neighborhood busybody/nuisance. She proceeds to yell in my window, "Hey, slow down you %$&#@ idiot." I'm a well-bred, mellow guy by nature, so I ignore this. As I drive away, she yells, "assh*le" at me again. Twice? *&%$# that. I turn around and drive up next to her.
    "Do you have a problem?" I ask.
    "Yeah, why are you driving like an more...

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