What a Way to Go!

Pat and Mike work at the Guinness Brewery, and one day there’s an accident.

Pat calls Mike’s wife, Mary, and says: “Sure, and I hate to be tellin ya this, but there’s been an accident down at the Guinness.”

“Saints Preserve us,” says she, “is Mike alright?”

Pat responds, “I’d like to tell ya that, but it’d be a lie!”

“Ya don’t mean that me Mike’s been hurt?” says Mary.

“Sure, an it’s worse than that,” says Pat, “he’s fallen inta the beer vat and drowned!”

“Oh, well” says Mary, “At least it was quick, ya know he couldn’t swim a lick!”

“Oh, I wish I could be tellin ya that,” says Pat, “but it’s be a lie… He got out three times ta pee!”

The Tough Day

A guy came into a bar one day and said to the barman “Give me six double vodkas.”

The barman says “Wow!, you must have had one hell of a day.”

“Yes, I’ve just found out my older brother is gay.”

The next day the same guy came into the bar and asked for the same drinks. When the bartender asked what the problem was today, the answer came back, “I’ve just found out that my younger brother is gay too!”

On the third day the guy came into the bar and ordered another six double vodkas.

The bartender says “Geez! Doesn’t anybody in your family like women?”

“Yeah, my wife…”

The Redneck Patch

Two rednecks, Bubba and Earl, were driving down the road drinking a couple of bottles of Bud.

The passenger, Bubba, said “lookey thar up ahead, Earl, it’s a poll-ice roadblock!! We’re gonna get busted fer drinkin’ these here beers!!”

“Don’t worry, Bubba”, Earl said. “We’ll just pull over and finish drinkin’ these beers, peel off the label and stick it on our foreheads, and throw the bottles under the seat.”

“What fer?” asked Bubba.

“Just let me do the talkin’, OK?” said Earl.

Well, they finished their beers, threw the empty bottles under the seat, and each put a label on their forehead. When they reached the roadblock, the sheriff said, “You boys been drinkin’?”

“No, sir”, said Earl. “We’s on the patch!”

Rating Hangovers

  • 1 star hangover (*)
    No pain. No real feeling of illness. Your sleep last night was a mere disco nap which is giving you a whole lot of misplaced energy. Be glad that you are able to function relatively well. However, you are still parched. You can drink 10 sodas and still feel this way. You are craving a steak bomber and a side of gravy fries.
  • 2 star hangover (**)
    No pain, but something is definitely amiss. You may look okay but you have mental capacity of a staple gun. The coffee you chug is only irritating your rumbling gut, which is craving a Rootie Tootie Fresh and Fruity pancake breakfast from IHOP. Last night has wreaked havoc on your bowels.
  • 3 star hangover (***)
    Slight headache. Stomach feels crappy. You are definitely not productive. Anytime a girl walks by you gag because her perfume reminds you of the random gin shots you did with your alcoholic friends after the bouncer 86’d you at 1 :45 a.m. Life would be better right now if you were in your bed with a dozen donuts and a meatball sub watching the E! fashion awards. You’ve had 4 cups of coffee, a gallon of water, 3 Snapples and a liter of diet coke — yet you haven’t peed once.
  • 4 star hangover (drinking)
    Life sucks. Your head is throbbing and you can’t speak too quickly or else you might puke. Your boss has already lambasted you for being late and has given you a lecture for reeking of booze. You wore nice clothes, but that can’t hide the fact that you missed an oh-so crucial spot shaving, (girls, it looks like you put your make-up on while riding the bumper cars). Your eyes look like one big vein and your hair style makes you look like a reject from the class picture of Revere High, ’76.
  • 5 star hangover (drinking*) AKA “Dante’s 4th Circle of Hell.”
    You have a second heartbeat in your head which is actually annoying the employee who sits in the next cube. Vodka vapor is seeping out of every pore and making you dizzy. You still have toothpaste crust in the corners of your mouth from brushing your teeth. Your body has lost the ability to generate saliva, so your tongue is suffocating you. Death seems pretty good right now. You definitely don’t remember who you were with, where you were, what you drank, and why there is a stranger still sleeping in your bed at your house.
  • 6 star hangover (drinking**) otherwise known as the “Infinite Nutsmacker”
    You wake up on your bathroom floor. For about 2 seconds you look at the ceiling, wondering if the cool refreshing feeling on your cheek is the bathroom tile or your puke from 5 hours ago. It is amazing how your roommate was as drunk as you, but somehow manages to get up before you the next morning….You try to lift your head. Not an option. It is when you turn your head too quickly only to smell the funk of 13 packs of cigarettes in your hair, and suddenly you realize you were smoking, but not ultra lights…some jackass handed you Marlboro reds, and you smoked them like it was your second full time job. You look in the mirror only to see remnants of the stamp “Ready to Rock” faintly atop your forehead…that explains the stamp on the back of your hand that has magically appeared on your forehead by alcoholic osmosis. You have to be to work in t-minus 14 minutes and 32 seconds and the only thing you can think of wearing is your “Hello Kitty” pajamas and your slippers.

Mistaken Identity

Ole was sitting at the bar, getting pretty sloshed, and mentioned something about Lena being out in the car. After quite a while, the bartender became concerned about Lena, as it was cold out, and went outside to check on her.

When he looked inside the car, he saw Ole’s buddy, Sven, really going at it with Lena.

The bartender shook his head and returned to the bar. He walked over to Ole and told him that he thought it might be a good idea to run out to the car and check on Lena.

Ole staggered off the barstool, went outside to the car, and sure enough, there were Sven and Lena, still going at it. Ole walks back into the bar, laughing and laughing.

The bartender asked him what was so funny. Ole said, “That damned Sven! He’s so drunk, he thinks he’s me!”

Male Date Rape Drug

Police warn all male clubbers, party-goers and unsuspecting pub regulars to be alert and stay cautious when offered a drink from a woman.

A new date rape drug on the market, called “beer”, is being used by females to target unsuspecting men. The drug is generally found in liquid form, and is available almost anywhere. “Beer” is sometimes used by female sexual predators at parties and bars to convince their male victims to go home and have sex with them.

Typically, a woman needs only to persuade a guy to consume a few units of “beer” and then simply ask him home for no-strings attached sex. Men are helpless against this approach: After several “beers” men often succumb to desires to perform sexual acts with women to whom they would usually not be attracted. Men often awaken after being given “beer” with only hazy memories of exactly what happened the night before, just a vague feeling something bad occurred.

Some unfortunate men report having been trapped in a familiar scam known as “a relationship.” Apparently men are easy victims for this scam after “beer” is administered and they’ve been sexually approached previously.

Please! Forward this warning to every male you know. If you should fall victim to this insidious “beer” and the predatory women plying it, there are male Support groups in most towns where you can discuss the details of your shocking encounter in an open and frank manner with similarly-affected, like-minded guys.

I Watched An Ant…

I watched an ant
climb a blade of grass this morning.
When he reached the top,
his weight bent the blade
down to the ground.
Then, twisting his thorax
with insectile precision,
he grabbed hold of the next blade.
In this manner,
He traveled across the lawn,
covering as much distance vertically
as he did horizontally,
which amused and delighted me.
And then, all at once,
I had what is sometimes
called an “epiphany”,
a moment of heightened awareness
in which everything becomes clear.
Yes, hunched over that ant
on my hands and knees,
I suddenly knew
what I had to do…

Quit drinking before noon.


I had eighteen bottles of whiskey in the cellar, and my wife insisted I empty the contents of each bottle down the sink, or else.

After careful consideration, I reluctantly agreed and finally proceeded with the unpleasant task.

I withdrew the cork from the first bottle and poured the contents down the sink with the exception of one glass, which I drank.

Then, I withdrew the cork from the second bottle and did likewise with it, with the exception of one glass, which I drank.

I then withdrew the cork from the third bottle and poured the whiskey down the sink, which I drank.

I pulled the cork from the fourth bottle down the sink and poured the bottle down the glass, which I drank.

I pulled the bottle from the cork of the next and drank one sink out of it, and threw the rest down the glass.

I pulled the sink out of the next glass and poured the cork down the bottle. Then, I corked the sink with the glass, bottled the drink and drank the pour.

When I had everything emptied, I steadied the house with one hand, counted the glasses, corks, bottles, and sinks with the other, which were twenty-nine, and as the houses came by I counted them again, and finally I had all the houses in one bottle, which I drank.

I’m not under the affluence of incohol as some tinkle peep I am. I’m not half as thunk as you might drink. I fool so feelish I don’t know who is me, and the drunker I stand here, the longer I get.

Good Catch!

A kind-hearted fellow was walking through Central Park in New York and was astonished to see an old man, fishing rod in hand, fishing over a beautiful bed of lillies.

“Tsk Tsk!” said the passerby to himself. “What a sad sight. That poor old man is fishing over a bed of flowers. I’ll see if I can help.” So the kind fellow walked up to the old man and asked, “What are you doing, my friend?”

“Fishin’, sir.”

“Fishin’, eh. Well how would you like to come have a drink with me?”

The old man stood put his rod away and followed the kind stranger to the corner bar. He ordered a large glass of beer and a fine cigar.

His host, the kind fellow, felt good about helping the old man, and he asked, “Tell me, old friend, how many did you catch this morning?”

The old fellow took a long drag on the cigar, blew a careful smoke ring and replied, “You are the sixth today, sir!”

A Golden Toilet?

There was this guy, let’s call him Mike. One night Mike went to about 5 bars, and he drank, like, 17 beers.

After he was done with that, like any normally functioning person, he really had to go. So he asked the bartender where the bathroom was, and he went to where he thought it was.

Later that night, Mike was laying in bed trying to go to sleep, and he thought, “Wait a minute.. there was a golden toilet!!” Right then he got up and went out to find the special toilet. He had hit 5 bars that night, so he went to the first one, asked where the bathroom was, when he went and looked, there was no golden toilet.

This continued until he got to the last bar, he was really tired by then, and rather then going to look for the toilet himself, he asked the bartender, “Do you by any chance have a golden toilet here?”

And the bartender said to another person that was there, “Hey! I think I found the guy who crapped in the tuba!!!”