“Funny Posts on the Internet”
Some men like big girls, others like little
lasses.
Some women take a man to the cleaners as
soon as they spot him.
Nothing is more wasted than a smile on the
face of a girl with a forty-inch bust.
Sunny, the plumber, was summoned to a
mansion to fix a leak and discovered a very
pretty maid there; he lost no time trying to combine
business with pleasure. The girl refused on the
grounds that her mistress was home, and she
didn’t want to be discovered and fired. After
several refusals. Sunny finished the job and
returned to his shop.
The next morning his phone rang, and his caller
was the maid. In dulcet tones, she informed him
that her mistress was out and asked if he wanted
to come over and see her.
“What! Yelled Sunny. “On my own time?”
When Mamta’s parents threatened to bid
her to see her boyfriend unless she told them
why he’d been there so late the night before, she
finally began to talk.
“Well,” she said, “I took him into the loving
room, and…”
“That’s living, dear,” her mother
interrupted.Said the happy girl, “You’re telling me!”
As they ran for their respective trains, Sunny
called to his fellow commuter, Raj :
“How about a game of golf tomorrow?”
“Sorry,” Raj called back, “but it’s the kid’s
day off, and I’ve got to take care of the maid.”
Never try to keep up with the Sunny: they
might be newlyweds.
Mamta and Monika, two pretty young
housewives had arranged to have cocktails and
lunch together, but as soon as they met. Monika
could see that something serious was bothering
her friend.
“Out with it, Mamta,” she commanded.
What’s depressing you so?”
“I’m ashamed to admit it,” Mamta wailed,
“but I caught my husband making love.”
“Why let that bother you?” laughed
Monika. “I got mine the same way.”
Sunny stepped out of his office building and
bumped into a group of his advertising friends.
“Join us for lunch, Sunny boy?” asked one
of them
“Sorry,” was the answer, “I’m on the
wagon.”
The nightclub’s hat-check girl was
obviously new, and Sunny watched in mild
amusement as, fumbling frantically to find his
coat, she knocked garments off the racks and
entangled herself in the hangers. His amusement
had changed to fury, however, when a quarter of
an hour later, the room was a jumble of outerwear
of the silly girl had still not found his coat.
“Forget it!” he finally cried in rage. “I’ll
send somebody for it tomorrow!” And seething,
he strode out into the bitter cold of a snowstorm,
clutching the lapels of his suit jacket. The girl
ran after him.
“Hey, you cheapskate,” she called, “What
about my tip?”
Mamta, a pretty but distraught modal, took
her troubles to a psychiatrist.
“Doctor, you must help me,” she pleaded.
“It’s gotten so that every time a man takes me
out, I wind up in bed with him. And then afterwards
I feel guilty and depressed all day long.”
“I see,” nodded the psychiatrist. “And you
want me to strengthen your willpower.”
“Heavens no!” exclaimed the Mamta. “I
want you to fix it so I won’t feel guilty and
depressed afterwards.”
The moon shone silver on the waters of the
lake and the waves beating on the shore were
hardly equal in intensity to the waves of passion
nearby. One ardent couple pulled apart long
enough for the young man to whisper, “Darling,
am I the first man to make love to you?”
“Her tone when she answered, was irritable.
Of course, you are,” she said, “I don’t know why
you can always ask the same ridiculous
question.”
So then the ubiquitous travelling salesman
said to the farmer, “Can you put me up for the
night!”
Whereupon the farmer said, “Sure, but
you’ll have in sleep with my son.”
“Good Lord,” said the salesman, “I’m in
the wrong joke.”
Some men don’t give women a second
thought. The first one covers everything.
The business was brisk for the pretty little call
girl at the bar, with a number of would-bes
customers gathered about her. “Sunny,” she said,
“You can come over about seven-ish, and you,
George, around eight-ish.”
Anup, “I’ll have time for you around nineish.”
Then, obviously pleased with the prospects
of a busy, busy evening, she spun around on her
bar stool surveyed the crowded club and carolled,
“Ten-ish, anyone?”