Blakk Frogg Joke Blog

A little girl goes to the barber shop with her father. She stands next to the barber chair while her dad gets his hair cut. After a while she takes out a snack cake and begins eating.

The barber smiles at her and says, “Sweetheart, you’re gonna get hair on your twinkie.”

“I know, “she replies. “I’m gonna get boobies, too.”

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Two attorneys were walking out of a bar and a beautiful young lady walks by. One attorney turns to his associate and comments “Boy, I would like to f*ck her!

The other attorney thinks for a second and says, “Out of what?”

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The following is an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry mid-term. The answer by one student was so “profound” that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well.

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)? Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle’s Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant. One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving.

As for how many souls are entering Hell, let’s look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell.

Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell.

With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle’s Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, “it will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,” and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over.

The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct… leaving only Heaven. Thereby, proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting, “Oh my God.”

Never Call Her a Bad Cook… or Hell Gets Your Meat!

A golfer looking for his ball in the woods when he comes up to another man hugging a tree with his ear firmly against the tree. Seeing this he inquires, “Just out of curiosity, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m listening to the music of the tree.”

You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“No, would you like to give it a try?”

Well, OK… So he wraps his arms around the tree and presses his ear up against the tree. With this, the other guy slaps a set of handcuffs on him on the other side of the tree, takes his wallet, jewelry, car keys, then strips him naked and leaves.

Two hours later another nature lover strolls by, sees this guy handcuffed to the tree, stark naked, and asks, “What the hell happened to you?”

So he tells the guy the whole story about how he got there.

While he was telling his story, the other guy shakes his head in sympathy, walks around behind him, kisses him behind the ear and says, “This just isn’t gonna be your day.”

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Oh man… the guy shoulda’ stayed home and read the stuff Blakk Frogg posts on Americas Best.

Bob calls his buddy Sam, the horse rancher, and says he’s sending a friend over to look at a horse.

Sam asks “How will I recognize him?”

“That’s easy… He’s a midget with a speech impediment.”

So, the midget shows up, and Sam asks him if he’s looking for a male or female horse. “A female horth.”

So he shows him a prized filly.

“Nith lookin horth. Can I thee her eyeth”?

Sam picks up the midget and he gives the horse’s eyes the once over.

“Nith eyeth, can I thee her earzth”? So he picks the little fella up again, and shows him the horse’s ears.

“Nith earzth, can I see her mouf”?

The rancher is gettin’ pretty ticked off by this point, but he picks him up again and shows him the horse’s mouth.

“Nice mouf, can I see her twat”?

Totally mad at this point, the rancher grabs him under his arms and rams the midget’s head as far as he can up the horse’s twat, pulls him out and slams him on the ground.

The midget gets up, sputtering and coughing.

“Perhapth I should rephrase that. Can I thee her wun awound a widdlebit?”

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A husband emerged from the bathroom naked and was climbing into bed when his wife complained, as usual, “I have a headache.”

“Perfect” her husband said. “I was just in the bathroom powdering my penis with aspirin. You can take it orally or as a suppository; it’s up to you!”

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A guy meets a hooker in a bar. She says, “This is your lucky night. I’ve got a special game for you. I’ll do absolutely anything you want for $300, as long as you can say it in three words.”

The guy replies, “Hey, why not?”

He pull his wallet out of his pocket, and one at a time lays three hundred-dollar bills on the bar, and says, slowly: “Paint… my… house.”

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A little old lady had always wanted to join a local biker club.

One day she goes up and knocks on the club’s door. A big, hairy, bearded biker guy with tattoos all over his arms answers the door.

She proclaims, “I want to join your club.”

The biker was amused, but says she needs to meet certain biker requirements in order to join. The biker asks, “Do you have a motorcycle?”

The little old lady replies, “Yep… my bike’s parked over there”, and points to a Harley in the driveway.

The biker asks, “Do you drink?”

The little old lady replies “Yep… drink like a fish. I’ll drink any man in your club under the table.”

The biker asks, “Do you smoke?”

The little old lady replies, “Yep… smoke like a chimney. At least 4 packs a day and a couple of cigars in the evening when I’m shooting pool.”

The biker is very impressed and asks, “Last Question. Have you ever been picked up by the fuzz?”

The little old lady thinks for a minute and says, “Nope… but I was swung around by the nipples once.”

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THE BOSS WALKED INTO THE OFFICE ONE MORNING NOT KNOWING THAT HIS ZIPPER WAS DOWN AND HIS FLY AREA WAS WIDE OPEN.

HIS SECRETARY WALKED UP TO HIM AND SAID “BOSS, THIS MORNING WHEN YOU LEFT YOUR HOUSE, DID YOU CLOSE YOUR GARAGE DOOR?”

THIS WAS NOT A PHRASE THAT HER BOSS UNDERSTOOD, SO HE WENT INTO HIS OFFICE LOOKING A BIT PUZZLED.

WHEN HE WAS ABOUT DONE WITH HIS PAPERWORK HE SUDDENLY NOTICED THAT HIS ZIPPER WAS DOWN. HE ZIPPED UP AND REMEMBERING WHAT HIS SECRETARY HAD TOLD HIM EARLIER, HE FINALLY UNDERSTOOD. HE INTENTIONALLY WENT OUT TO ASK FOR A CUP OF COFFEE FROM HIS SECRETARY.

HAVING MORE EGO THAN SENSE, HE WALKED TO HER DESK, SMIRKED AND ASKED HER, “WHEN YOU SAW THE GARAGE DOOR OPEN DID YOU SEE MY HUMMER PARKED IN THERE?”

THE SECRETARY SMILED FOR A MOMENT AND SAID, “NO BOSS, I DIDN’T. ALL I SAW WAS A MINI COOPER WITH 2 FLAT TIRES.”

FEMALE GEOGRAPHY

– Between 18 and 20, a woman is like Afrca : wild, naturally beautiful and full of mysterious, fertile deltas.

– Between 21 and 30, a woman is like America : well-developed and open for trade, especially for those with stacks of money.

– Between 31 and 35, a woman is like India : sensual, relaxed, in full bloom, aware of her beauty.

– Between 36 and 40, a woman is like France : deliciously mature, still a pleasant destination to visit.

– Between 41 and 50, a woman is like Yugoslavia : a lost war, haunted by the mistakes of the past. Major reconstruction work is the only answer.

– Between 51 and 60, a woman is like Russia : vast, with undefined frontier. The cold climate puts off any potential visitors.

– Between 61 and 70, a woman is like Mongolia : a glorious past, great conquests, but without a future.

– After 70, a woman is like Afghanistan : many know its whereabouts, but no-one dares to venture there…

MALE GEOGRAPHY

– Between 15 and 70, a man is like the USA : ruled by a dick…

“Clinton lied. A man might forget where he parks or where he lives, but he never forgets oral sex, no matter how bad it is.”

— Barbara Bush (Former US First Lady — and you didn’t think Barbara had a sense of humor)

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