A blonde wanted to take up a new hobby so decided to take up ice fishing. She got all of the equipment and set off to start her new hobby. She found a piece of ice and cut a small circular hole in it. On went the maggot on then end of her fishing rod and in went the rod into the water. Minutes later a voice came from above which said "there are no fish under the ice!" Confused she moved futher down the patch of ice that she had found. Once again, she cut a small circular hole in to the ice and in went her rod. Once again a booming voice made her jump. "there are no fish under the ice!" Confused she stuttered "God, God is that you?" "No this is not God, this is the manager of the ice rink!"
There is a fine line between "hobby" and "mental illness."
For me, penises are a hobby... kinda like fishing... The small ones you throw back, The good-sized ones you take home for dinner, and The big ones you mount."
One woman's hobby may be another woman's hubby.
As the Christmas season draws nigh, foretelling the end of over a full month of Commercial Christmas, there is a special urgency in the spirits of children as they visit toy stores and toy departments all over the country.
It was with particular urgency that little Wilbert dragged his mother to the toy department in a big Los Angeles department store. Mother quickly steered Wilbert into the line of children waiting to talk to Santa, but Wilbert was far more interested in the hobby horse.
As soon as his mother relaxed her vigilance for a moment, Wilbert vanished from the Santa Queue and began rocking back and forth on the hobby horse. His mother noticed his absence, and after a quick, frantic search, spotted him on the horse. She let him rock for a few minutes, then told him it was time to get off. Wilbert ignored her. She began to beg; Wilbert paid no attention. She began to make promises of sugarplums, etc., if only Wilbert would get off the hobby horse. He stuck his nasty more...