bingbongboo fun

Once upon a time, there was a sperm named Stanley who lived inside a famous movie actor. Stanley was a very healthy sperm.
He’d do push ups and somersaults and limber himself up all the time, while the other sperm just lazed around doing nothing. One day, one of the sperm questioned Stanley and asked why he exercised all day.

Stanley explained, “Look pal, only one sperm gets a woman pregnant, and when the right time comes, I’m gonna be that one sperm!”

A few days later, all the sperm could feel themselves getting hotter and hotter. They knew the big swim was imminent. Moments later, they were released abruptly and, sure enough, Stanley was swimming far ahead of all the others.

Suddenly, Stanley stopped in his tracks, turned around, and began to swim back with all his might. “Go back! Go back!” he hollered, “It’s a Hand Job!”

Larry gets home late one night and his wife, Linda, says, ‘Where, in the world, have you been?’

Larry replies, ‘I was out getting a tattoo.’

‘A tattoo?’ she frowned. ‘What kind of tattoo did you get?’

‘I got a hundred dollar bill on my privates,’ he said proudly.

‘What the devil were you thinking?’ she said, shaking her head in disdain.’ Why on earth would an accountant get a hundred dollar bill tattooed on his privates?’

‘Well, One, I like to watch my money grow. Two, once in a while I like to play with my money. Three, I like how money feels in my hand. And, lastly, instead of you going out shopping, you can stay right here at home and blow a hundred bucks anytime you want .’

Larry is recovering in room 232 at the local hospital.

Bush and Cheney are at a restaurant for lunch.

The waitress comes over and asks what they will be having.

Bush says, "I’ll have a quickie."

The waitress steps back in disgust and says, "Mr. President, I thought that kind of piggish behavior went out with the last administration!"

She storms off and Dubya looks confused.

Cheney shakes his head at the president and says, "George, it’s pronounced QUICHE."

A woman was out shopping one day with her son.

The boy spotted a man who was bowlegged. The boy pulled on Mom’s hand and said, “Momma, look at the bowlegged man!”

Mom was mortified and told her son that it was not polite to point to a person and make that sort of comment. For punishment, the boy had to read a play by Shakespeare. He couldn’t go shopping again until he finished reading the play. Finally he finished and his mom took him once again to the mall.

Again he spied a bowlegged man, but remembered what happened the last time. So he pulled on his mother’s hand and said, “Lo, what manner of men are these, who wear their balls in parentheses?”

Two guys walking down the street see a male dog licking his
tool. One guy looks at the other and says,”I wish I could do that.” The
other replies,”You probably can, just pet him first to make sure he is
friendly.

Day 1: Dear Boudreaux, Thanks for de bird in de Pear tree. I fix it las’night with dirty rice. I doan tink de pear tree will grow in de swamp so I swap it for a Satsuma.

Day 2: Dear Boudreaux, You letter say you sent two turtle doves, but all I got was two scrawny pigeons. Anyway, I mixed dem with andouille an made some gumbo out of dem.

Day 3: Dear Boudreaux, Why doan you sent some crawfish? I’m tired of eating dem darn birds. I gave two of dose prissy French chickens to Marie Trahan over at Grans Bayou an fed the tird one to my dog Phideaux. Marie needed some sparring partners for her fighting rooster.

Day 4: Dear Boudreaux, Mon Dieux! I tol you no more friggin birds. Deez four, what you call dem “calling birds” were so noisy you could hear dem all de way to Napoleonville. I used dere necks for my crab traps, an fed de rest of dem to de gators.

Day 5: Dear Boudreaux, You finally sen’ somethin useful. I like dem golden rings, me. I hocked dem at da pawn shop in Thibodeaux and got enuf money to fix da shaft on my shrimp boat an buy a round for da boys at de Raisin’ Cane Lounge. Merci Beaucoup!

Day 6: Dear Boudreaux, Couchon! Back to da birds, you coonass turkey! Poor egg suckin’ Phideaux is scared to death at dem six gaeases. He tried to eat dems eggs and dey peck de heck out ah his snout. Dey good at eating cockroaches, though. I may stuff one of dem wit erster dressing on Christmas day.

Day 7: Dear Boudreaux, I’m gonna wring your fool neck next time I see you. Thibeau, da mailman, is ready to kill ya. The merde from all dem birds is stinkin’ up his mailboat. He afraid someone will slip on dat stuff and sue him good. I let those seven swans loose to swim on de bayou and some duck hunters from Mississippi blasted dem out of de water. Talk to you tomorrow.

Day 8: Dear Boudreaux, poor ole Thibeau, he had to make tree trips on his mailboat to deliver dem 8 maids a milkin and their cows. One of dem cows got spooked by da alligators and almost tipped over da boat. I doan like dem shiftless maids, me no. I tolt dem to get to work guttin fish and sweepinq the shack but dey say it wasn’t in dair contract. Dey probably think dey too good ta skin nutrias I caught las night.

Day 9: Dear Boudreaux, What you trying to do huh? Thibeau had to borrow the Lutcher ferry to carry dem jumpin twits you call Lords-a-Leaping across the bayou. As soon as dey gots here dey wanted a tea break with crumpets. I doan know what dat means but I says, Well La Di Da. You get Chicory coffee or nuttin. Mon Dieu, Emile. What I’m gonna feed all dese bozos? Dey too snooty for fried nutria, and de cows done eat my turnip greens.

Day 10: Dear Boudreaux, You got to be outs you mind! If de mailman don’t kill you, I will fo sure. Today he deliver tem half nikid floozies from Bourbon Street. Dey said dey be Ladies Dancin but dey doan act like ladies in front of dose Limey twits. Dey almos left after one of dem got bit by a water moccasin over by da out-house. I had to butcher two cows to feed toute le monde an had to get toilet paper. The Sears catalog wasn’t good enuf fer dose hoity-toity Lords’ royal behinies.

Day 11: Dear Boudreaux, where y’at? Cheerio an pip pip. Your eleven pipers piping arrives today from the House of Blues, second lining as dey got off de boat. We fixed stuffed goose and beef jambalaya, finished da whiskey and we having a fais-do-do. Da new mailman he drink a bottle of Jack Daniel an he having a good time yeah dancing with de floozies. Thibeau he jump off de Sunshine Bridge yesterday, screaming your name. If you get a mysterious, ticking package in de mail, doan open it.

Day 12: Dear Boudreaux, I sorry to tell ya but I not your true love anymore, no. After da fais-do-do, I spent de night with Jacque, de head piper. We decide to open a restaurant and gentleman’s club on de bayou. The floozies (pardon me, Ladies Dancing) can make $20 for a table dance, and de Lords can be waiters an valet park de boats. Since de maids doan have no more cows ta milk, I trained dem ta set my crab traps, watch my trotlines, an run my shrimping business. We will probably gross maybe a million clams nex year. Noel et bon anni. aaaaaaiiiiiiEEEEEEEeeeeeeee