<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483</id><updated>2024-09-24T05:31:14.490-07:00</updated><category term="marriage jokes"/><category term="religion"/><category term="drinking jokes"/><category term="police"/><category term="animals"/><category term="blonde jokes"/><category term="children"/><category term="doctors"/><category term="golf"/><category term="lawyer jokes"/><category term="sports"/><category term="work jokes"/><category term="old"/><category term="pilot jokes"/><category term="teachers"/><category term="bar jokes"/><category term="campers"/><category term="criminal"/><category term="fart jokes"/><category term="food"/><category term="irish jokes"/><category term="midget jokes"/><category term="monk"/><category term="native american jokes"/><category term="nuns"/><category term="political"/><category term="school"/><category term="women jokes"/><title type='text'>Hilarious Jokes</title><subtitle type='html'>Daily jokes and funny stories! All kinds of jokes: blonde, lawyer, bar, dirty, doctors, religion, work, sports, animal, relationship, marriage and more.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>76</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-5838539693040153634</id><published>2010-08-15T18:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-15T18:45:00.131-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="native american jokes"/><title type='text'>A Father and his son...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;usertext-body&quot;&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;md&quot;&gt;&lt;p&gt;A Father and his son are  hiking in the grand canyon.  The go around some bends, over some hills,  and through some nooks.  They round the bend and see a native american  sitting on a rock.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The father points to the native american and says, &quot;son, native americans have the best memory of any peoples in the world&quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The young son thinks he&#39;s quite the smart one and goes up to the  native american and says, &quot;What did you have for breakfast last  tuesday.&quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Without hesitation the Native American responds, &quot;eggs.&quot;  The son is impressed and goes on with the hike with his father.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;30 years later the son is now a grown man, and is hiking the same  trail with his own son.  He goes around the same bends, over the same  hills, and lo and behold, rounds the corner and there is that same  native american on the same rock.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;He&#39;s an older wiser man now, and will really test this native american.  He walks up, raises his hand in greeting and says &quot;HOW&quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Native American responds, &quot;Scrambled.&quot;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/5838539693040153634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/5838539693040153634' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/5838539693040153634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/5838539693040153634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/08/father-and-his-son.html' title='A Father and his son...'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-7890328129805301892</id><published>2010-08-12T18:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-12T18:42:00.633-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="police"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="religion"/><title type='text'>After getting all of the Popes luggage...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;After getting all of the Popes luggage loaded into the limo, (and he  doesn&#39;t travel light), the driver notices that the Pope is still  standing on the curb.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&quot;Excuse me, Your Holiness,&quot; says the driver, &quot;Would you please take your seat so we can leave?&quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&quot;Well, to tell you the truth,&quot; says the Pope, &quot;they never let me drive at the Vatican, and I&#39;d really like to drive today.&quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&quot;I&#39;m sorry but I cannot let you do that. I&#39;d lose my job! And what if  something should happen?&quot; protests the driver, wishing he&#39;d never gone  to work that morning.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&quot;There might be something extra in it for you,&quot; says the Pope.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Reluctantly, the driver gets in the back as the Pope climbs in behind  the wheel. The driver quickly regrets his decision when, after exiting  the airport, the Pontiff floors it, accelerating the limo to 105 mph.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&quot;Please slow down, Your Holiness!!!&quot; pleads the worried driver, but  the Pope keeps the pedal to the metal until they hear sirens.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&quot;Oh, dear God, I&#39;m gonna lose my license,&quot; moans the driver.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The Pope pulls over and rolls down the window as the cop approaches,  but the cop takes one look at him, goes back to his motorcycle, and gets  on the radio.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&quot;I need to talk to the Chief,&quot; he says to the dispatcher.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The Chief gets on the radio and the cop tells him that he&#39;s stopped a limo going a hundred and five.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&quot;So bust him,&quot; says the Chief.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&quot;I don&#39;t think we want to do that, he&#39;s really important,&quot; said the cop.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The Chief exclaimed,&quot; All the more reason!&quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&quot;No, I mean really important,&quot; said the cop.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The Chief then asked, &quot;Who ya got there, the Mayor?&quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Cop: &quot;Bigger.&quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Chief: &quot;Governor?&quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Cop: &quot;Bigger.&quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&quot;Well,&quot; said the Chief, &quot;Who is it?&quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Cop: &quot;I think it&#39;s God!&quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Chief: &quot;What makes you think it&#39;s God?&quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Cop: &quot;He&#39;s got the fucking Pope as a chauffeur!!&quot;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/7890328129805301892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/7890328129805301892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/7890328129805301892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/7890328129805301892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/08/after-getting-all-of-popes-luggage.html' title='After getting all of the Popes luggage...'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-2879612558798251147</id><published>2010-08-09T18:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-09T18:40:37.370-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="animals"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="police"/><title type='text'>A cop is directing traffic...</title><content type='html'>A cop is directing traffic and sees a guy walking hand in hand with a  penguin. The cop points and yells. &quot;Hey! take that thing to the zoo!&quot;  The man with the penguin agrees and walks away. A couple of days later  the cop is directing traffic again and sees the same man walking hand in  hand with the same penguin. The cop yells &quot;Hey I thought I told you to  take that thing to the zoo!&quot; The guy replies &quot;I did. Today we are going  to the movies.&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/2879612558798251147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/2879612558798251147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/2879612558798251147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/2879612558798251147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/08/cop-is-directing-traffic.html' title='A cop is directing traffic...'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-95391396594790853</id><published>2010-07-01T07:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-01T07:51:23.731-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="blonde jokes"/><title type='text'>A redhead, a brunette, and a blonde...</title><content type='html'>One day a redhead, a brunette, and a blonde were on their way to heaven. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God told them the stairs to heaven were 1,000 steps and on every step he  was going to tell them a joke. If they laughed they would not be able  to get to heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the redhead made it to the 45th step and laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The brunette made it to the 200th step and laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the blonde made it to the 999th step and laughed even before god  told his joke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God asked &quot;Why did you laugh I haven&#39;t even told the joke yet&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The blonde said &quot;I know I just now got the first one!!!&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/95391396594790853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/95391396594790853' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/95391396594790853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/95391396594790853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/07/redhead-brunette-and-blonde.html' title='A redhead, a brunette, and a blonde...'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-6773006059172175574</id><published>2010-06-10T13:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-10T13:15:56.846-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="marriage jokes"/><title type='text'>50th wedding anniversary</title><content type='html'>Jack and Betty are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary.&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Betty, I was wondering -- have you ever cheated on me?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Oh Jack, why would you ask such a question now? You don&#39;t want to ask that question...&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Yes, Betty, I really want to know. Please.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Well, all right. Yes, 3 times.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Three? When were they?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Well, Jack, remember when you were 35 years old and you really wanted to start the business on your own and no bank would give you a loan? Remember how one day the bank president himself came over to the house and signed the loan papers, no questions asked?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Oh, Betty, you did that for me! I respect you even more than ever, that you would do such a thing for me! So, when was number 2?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Well, Jack, remember when you had that last heart attack and you were needing that very tricky operation, and no surgeon would touch you? Remember how Dr. DeBakey came all the way up here, to do the surgery himself, and then you were in good shape again?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;I can&#39;t believe it! Betty, I love that you should do such a thing for me, to save my life! I couldn&#39;t have a more wonderful wife. To do such a thing, you must really love me darling. I couldn&#39;t be more moved. When was number 3?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Well, Jack, remember a few years ago, when you really wanted to be president of the golf club and you were 17 votes short?&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/6773006059172175574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/6773006059172175574' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/6773006059172175574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/6773006059172175574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/06/50th-wedding-anniversary.html' title='50th wedding anniversary'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-5576345647433577511</id><published>2010-06-04T08:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-10T13:16:51.055-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="animals"/><title type='text'>Elephant</title><content type='html'>In 1986, Peter Davies was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from Northwestern University. On a hike through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised in the air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The elephant seemed distressed, so Peter approached it very carefully. He got down on one knee, inspected the elephants foot, and found a large piece of wood deeply embedded in it. As carefully and as gently as he could, Peter worked the wood out with his knife, after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The elephant turned to face the man, and with a rather curious look on its face, stared at him for several tense moments. Peter stood frozen, thinking of nothing else but being trampled. Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned, and walked away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peter never forgot that elephant or the events of that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twenty years later, Peter was walking through the Chicago Zoo with his teenage son. As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned and walked over to near where Peter and his son Cameron were standing. The large bull elephant stared at Peter, lifted its front foot off the ground, then put it down. The elephant did that several times then trumpeted loudly, all the while staring at the man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remembering the encounter in 1986, Peter could not help wondering if this was the same elephant. Peter summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing, and made his way into the enclosure. He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of Peter legs and slammed him against the railing, killing him instantly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably wasn&#39;t the same elephant..</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/5576345647433577511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/5576345647433577511' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/5576345647433577511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/5576345647433577511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/06/elephant.html' title='Elephant'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-5308046919697505892</id><published>2010-05-21T07:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-21T07:33:43.548-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="old"/><title type='text'>Hearing problems</title><content type='html'>An old man decided his old wife was getting hard of hearing. So he called her doctor to make an appointment to have her hearing checked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Doctor said he could see her in two weeks, and meanwhile there&#39;s a simple, informal test the husband could do to give the doctor some idea of the dimensions of the problem. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Here&#39;s what you do. Start about 40 feet away from her, and speak in a normal conversational tone and see if she hears you. If not, go to 30 feet, then 20 feet, and so on until you get a response.&quot; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that evening she&#39;s in the kitchen cooking dinner, and he&#39;s in the living room, and he says to himself, &quot;I&#39;m about 40 feet away, let&#39;s see what happens.&quot; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Honey, what&#39;s for supper?&quot; No response. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he moves to the other end of the room, about 30 feet away. &quot;Honey, what&#39;s for supper?&quot; No response. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he moves into the dining room, about 20 feet away. &quot;Honey, what&#39;s for supper?&quot; No response. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to the kitchen door, only 10 feet away. &quot;Honey, what&#39;s for supper?&quot;. No response. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he walks right up behind her. &quot;Honey, what&#39;s for supper?&quot; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;For the fifth time, chicken!&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/5308046919697505892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/5308046919697505892' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/5308046919697505892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/5308046919697505892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/05/hearing-problems.html' title='Hearing problems'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-7262632079044598310</id><published>2010-05-18T07:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-18T07:42:00.392-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="midget jokes"/><title type='text'>Buying a horse</title><content type='html'>This guy owns a horse stud farm and gets a call from a friend. &quot;I know this midget with a speech impediment who wants to buy a horse. I&#39;m sending him over.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The midget arrives, and the owner asks if he wants a male or female horse. &quot;A female horth,&quot; the midget replies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the owner shows him one. &quot;Nith looking horth, can I thee her mouth?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the owner picks up the midget and shows him the horse&#39;s mouth. &quot;Nith mouth. Can I thee her eyesth?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the owner picks up the midget and shows the eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Ok, what about her earth?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the owner is getting pissed, but he picks up the midget one more time and shows the ears. &quot;OK, finally, I&#39;d like to thee her twat.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that, the owner picks up the midget and shoves his head up the horse&#39;s canal then pulls him out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shaking his head, the midget says, &quot;Perhapth I should rephrase. I&#39;d like to thee her run!&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/7262632079044598310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/7262632079044598310' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/7262632079044598310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/7262632079044598310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/05/buying-horse.html' title='Buying a horse'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-8502929884120861718</id><published>2010-05-16T07:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-16T07:40:48.509-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="marriage jokes"/><title type='text'>A woman goes to England...</title><content type='html'>A woman goes to England to attend a 2-week, company training session. Her husband drives her to the airport and wishes her to have a good trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wife answers: Thank you honey, what would you like me to bring for you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband laughs and says: An English girl!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman kept quiet and left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two weeks later he picks her up in the airport and asks: So, honey, how was the trip? Very good, thank you, replies the wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, what happened to my present?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which present?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked for, the English girl?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, that! Well, I did what I could, now we have to wait a few months to see if its a girl!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/8502929884120861718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/8502929884120861718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/8502929884120861718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/8502929884120861718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/05/woman-goes-to-england.html' title='A woman goes to England...'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-5258458651536779634</id><published>2010-05-14T04:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-14T04:53:00.084-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bar jokes"/><title type='text'>State-of-the-art watch</title><content type='html'>A rather confident young man walks into a bar and takes a seat next to a very attractive young woman. He gives her a quick glance, then casually looks at his watch for a moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman notices this and asks, &quot;Is your date running late?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;No,&quot; he replies, &quot;I just bought this state-of-the-art watch and I was testing it.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intrigued, the woman says, &quot;A state-of-the-art watch? What&#39;s so special about it?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;It uses alpha waves to telepathically talk to me,&quot; he explains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;What&#39;s it telling you now?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Well, it says that you&#39;re not wearing any panties...&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman giggles &amp;amp; replies, &quot;Well it must be broken then, because I am wearing panties!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man exclaims, &quot;Damn - this thing must be an hour fast!&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/5258458651536779634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/5258458651536779634' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/5258458651536779634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/5258458651536779634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/05/state-of-art-watch.html' title='State-of-the-art watch'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-8134975476690847197</id><published>2010-05-12T04:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T04:53:12.844-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fart jokes"/><title type='text'>While traveling cross country...</title><content type='html'>While traveling cross country, a couple decided to stop for a cup of coffee in a local diner somewhere in Texas. While they were sitting at a booth near the counter sipping their coffee, a local cowboy stumbled in and headed for the closest stool at the counter. As he lifted his leg over the stool, he cut one of the loudest farts ever heard by a human. The tourist jumped up and screamed, &quot;Sir, how dare you fart before my wife!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cowboy stopped, tipped his hat politely and said, &quot;Beggin&#39; yer pardon, ma&#39;am...I didn&#39;t know we was a takin&#39; turns.&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/8134975476690847197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/8134975476690847197' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/8134975476690847197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/8134975476690847197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/05/while-traveling-cross-country.html' title='While traveling cross country...'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-1636217427740867262</id><published>2010-05-09T09:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-09T09:20:28.681-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sports"/><title type='text'>Packers fan</title><content type='html'>There was a Packers fan with a really crappy seat at Lambeau. Looking with his binoculars, he spotted an empty seat on the 50-yard line. Thinking to himself &quot;what a waste&quot; he made his way down to the empty seat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he arrived at the seat, he asked the man sitting next to it, &quot;Is this seat taken?&quot; The man replied, &quot;This was my wife&#39;s seat. She passed away. She was a big Packers fan.&quot; The other man replied, &quot;I&#39;m so sorry to hear of your loss. May I ask why you didn&#39;t give the ticket to a friend or a relative?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man replied, &quot;They&#39;re all at the funeral.&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/1636217427740867262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/1636217427740867262' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/1636217427740867262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/1636217427740867262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/05/packers-fan.html' title='Packers fan'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-6441751173190393776</id><published>2010-05-04T15:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T15:10:18.763-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="irish jokes"/><title type='text'>Toastmaster</title><content type='html'>A good Irishman, John O&#39;Reilly, met regularly with his toastmasters club. One evening they were hitting the Guinness Stout and having a contest as to who could make the best toast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John O&#39;Reilly hoisted his beer and said, &quot;Here&#39;s to spending the rest of me life, Between the legs of me wife!&quot; That won him top prize for the best toast of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He went home and told his wife, Mary, he won the prize for the best toast of the night.&quot; She said, &quot;Aye, and what was your toast?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John replied, &quot;Here&#39;s to spending the rest of me life, sitting in church beside me wife!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, that is very nice indeed, John!&quot; Mary said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day Mary ran into one of John&#39;s toasting buddies on the street corner. The man chuckled leeringly and said, &quot;Did you know that John won the prize the other night with a toast about you, Mary?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, &quot;Aye, and I was a bit surprised myself. You know, he&#39;s only been there twice! Once he fell asleep and the other time I had to pull him by the ears to make him come!&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/6441751173190393776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/6441751173190393776' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/6441751173190393776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/6441751173190393776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/05/toastmaster.html' title='Toastmaster'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-6571828068001767302</id><published>2010-05-03T12:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T12:31:31.457-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lawyer jokes"/><title type='text'>Guess who?</title><content type='html'>A guy walks into a post office one day to see a middle-aged, balding man standing at the counter methodically placing &quot;Love&quot; stamps on bright pink envelopes with hearts all over them. He then takes out a perfume bottle and starts spraying scent all over them. His curiosity gets the better of him and he goes up to the balding man and asks him what he&#39;s doing.&lt;br /&gt;&quot;I&#39;m sending out 1,000 Valentine&#39;s Day cards signed, &#39;Guess who?&#39;&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;But why?&quot; asks the man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;I&#39;m a divorce lawyer.&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/6571828068001767302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/6571828068001767302' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/6571828068001767302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/6571828068001767302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/05/guess-who.html' title='Guess who?'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-7595981730685964352</id><published>2010-04-29T18:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T18:33:07.812-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="doctors"/><title type='text'>Doctor&#39;s convention</title><content type='html'>There&#39;s a bunch of doctors gathered together at a doctor&#39;s convention one night. A male doctor notices a female doctor from across the room. The female doctor notices also and the next thing you know, they&#39;re sitting next to each other by the end of dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dinner, the male asks the woman if she wants to go up to his hotel room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Sure,&quot; the woman says. &quot;Let me go wash my hands first.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After she washes her hands, they make love. After they are finished, she washes her hands again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is really starting to annoy the male doctor so he says, &quot;You know, you must be a surgeon, because you keep washing your hands.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angry at this remark, the woman says, &quot;Well, you must be an anesthesiologist, because I didn&#39;t feel a thing!&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/7595981730685964352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/7595981730685964352' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/7595981730685964352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/7595981730685964352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/04/doctors-convention.html' title='Doctor&#39;s convention'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-1121204418771018662</id><published>2010-04-26T18:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T18:19:22.062-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="golf"/><title type='text'>A young man who...</title><content type='html'>A young man who was an avid golfer found himself with a few hours to spare one afternoon. He figured if he hurried, and played very fast, he could get in nine holes before he had to head home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as he was about to tee off, an old gentleman shuffled onto the tee and asked if he could accompany the young man. Not being able to say no, he allowed the old gent to join him. To his surprise the old man played fairly quickly. He didn&#39;t hit the ball far, but plodded along consistently and didn&#39;t waste much time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, they reached the 9th fairway and the young man found himself with a tough shot. There was a large pine tree right in front of his ball - directly between his ball and the green. After several minutes of debating how to hit the shot, the old man finally said, &quot;You know, when I was your age I&#39;d hit the ball right over that tree.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that challenge placed before him, the youngster swung hard, hit the ball up, right smack into the top of the tree trunk and it thudded back on the ground not a foot from where it had originally lay. The old man leaned back on his golf bag and said, &quot;Of course, when I was your age, that pine tree was only three feet tall.&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/1121204418771018662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/1121204418771018662' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/1121204418771018662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/1121204418771018662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/04/young-man-who.html' title='A young man who...'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-3951422586175570526</id><published>2010-04-25T10:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T10:36:32.811-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="nuns"/><title type='text'>Nun goes fishing</title><content type='html'>One day a nun was fishing and caught a huge, strange looking fish. A man was walking by and said, &quot;Wow, what a nice Gauddam Fish!&quot; The sister said, &quot;Sir, you shouldn&#39;t use God&#39;s name in vain.&quot; The man said, &quot;But that&#39;s the SPECIES of the fish - a Gauddam Fish.&quot; The sister said, &quot;Oh, ok.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Sister took the fish back home and said, &quot;Mother Superior, look at the Gauddam Fish I caught.&quot; Shocked, the Mother Superior said, &quot;Sister, you know better than that.&quot; The nun said, &quot;That&#39;s the species of it - a Gauddam Fish.&quot; So the Mother Superior said, &quot;Well, give me the Gauddam Fish and I&#39;ll clean it.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While she was cleaning the fish, Monsignor walked in and Mother Superior said, &quot;Monsignor, look at the Gauddam Fish that the sister caught.&quot; Nearly fainting, Monsignor said, &quot;Mother Superior, you shouldn&quot;t talk like that!&quot; Mother Superior said, &quot;But that&#39;s the species of it - a Gauddam Fish.&quot; Monsignor said, &quot;Well give me the Gauddam Fish and I&#39;ll cook it.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That evening at supper there was a new priest at the table, and he said, &quot;Wow, what a nice fish.&quot; In reply, the sister said, &quot;Thank-you, I caught the Gauddam Fish.&quot; And Mother Superior said, &quot;I cleaned the Gauddam Fish.&quot; And Monsignor said, &quot;I cooked the Gauddam Fish.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The priest looked around in disbelief, quite shocked, and said...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;I LIKE THIS F***ING PLACE ALREADY!&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/3951422586175570526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/3951422586175570526' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/3951422586175570526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/3951422586175570526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/04/nun-goes-fishing.html' title='Nun goes fishing'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-1935285935742031953</id><published>2010-04-22T07:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T18:21:04.932-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pilot jokes"/><title type='text'>Blind Pilots</title><content type='html'>One day at a busy airport, the passengers on a commercial airliner are seated, waiting for the cockpit crew to show up so they can get under way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pilot and co-pilot finally appear in the rear of the plane, and begin walking up to the cockpit through the center aisle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both appear to be blind. The pilot is using a white cane, bumping into passengers right and left as he stumbles down the aisle, and the co-pilot is using a guide dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both have their eyes covered with huge sunglasses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first the passengers do not react; thinking that it must be some sort of practical joke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, after a few minutes the engines start spooling up and the airplane starts moving down the runway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The passengers look at each other with some uneasiness, whispering among themselves and looking desperately to the stewardesses for reassurance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the airplane starts accelerating rapidly and people begin panicking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some passengers are praying, and as the plane gets closer and closer to the end of the runway, the voices are becoming more and more hysterical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, when the airplane has less than 20 feet of runway left, there is a sudden change in the pitch of the shouts as everyone screams at once, and at the very last moment the airplane lifts&lt;br /&gt;off and is airborne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up in the cockpit, the co-pilot breathes a sigh of relief and turns to the Captain: &quot;You know, one of these days the they&#39;re going to scream too late, and we&#39;re gonna get killed!&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/1935285935742031953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/1935285935742031953' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/1935285935742031953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/1935285935742031953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/04/blind-pilots.html' title='Blind Pilots'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-8137407044940283690</id><published>2010-04-20T06:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-20T07:00:05.462-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="animals"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="religion"/><title type='text'>A lady approaches her priest...</title><content type='html'>A lady approaches her priest and tells him, &quot;Father, I have a problem. I have two female talking parrots, but they only know how to say one thing.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;What do they say?&quot; the priest inquired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;They only know how to say, &#39;Hi, we&#39;re prostitutes. &#39;Want to have some fun?&#39;&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;That&#39;s terrible!&quot; the priest exclaimed, &quot;but I have a solution to your problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bring your two female parrots over to my house and I will put them with my two male talking parrots whom I taught to pray and read the bible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parrots will teach your parrots to stop saying that terrible phrase and your female parrots will learn to praise and worship.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Thank you!&quot; the woman responded. The next day the woman brings her female parrots to the priest&#39;s house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His two male parrots are holding rosary beads and praying in their cage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lady puts her two female parrots in with the male parrots and the female parrots say,&quot;Hi, we&#39;re prostitutes, want to have some fun?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One male parrot looks over at the other male parrot and exclaims, &quot;Put the beads away. Our prayers have been answered!&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/8137407044940283690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/8137407044940283690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/8137407044940283690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/8137407044940283690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/04/lady-approaches-her-priest.html' title='A lady approaches her priest...'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-3588486826784040145</id><published>2010-04-17T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T18:20:42.857-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="marriage jokes"/><title type='text'>A jealous husband</title><content type='html'>A jealous husband hired a private detective to check on the movements of his wife. The husband wanted more than a written report; he wanted video of his wife&#39;s activities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week later, the detective returned with a video. They sat down together to watch it. Although the quality was less than professional, the man saw his wife meeting another man! He saw the two of them laughing in the park. He saw them enjoying themselves at an outdoor cafe. He saw them dancing in a dimly lit nightclub. He saw the man and his wife participate in a dozen activities with utter glee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;I just can&#39;t believe this,&quot; the distraught husband said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The detective said, &quot;What&#39;s not to believe? It&#39;s right up there on the screen!&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The husband replied, &quot;I can&#39;t believe that my wife could be so much fun!&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/3588486826784040145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/3588486826784040145' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/3588486826784040145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/3588486826784040145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/04/jealous-husband.html' title='A jealous husband'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-1114549818146647877</id><published>2010-04-15T09:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-15T09:30:47.122-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="religion"/><title type='text'>Religous dog</title><content type='html'>Muldoon lived alone  in the Irish countryside with only his dog for company. One day the dog  died, so Muldoon went to the parish priest and asked, “Father, my dog is  dead. Could ye be sayin’ a mass for the poor creature?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father Patrick replied, “I’m afraid not. We cannot have services for an  animal in the church. But there is a new denomination down the lane, and  there’s no tellin’ what they believe. Maybe they’ll do something for  the creature.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Muldoon replied, “I’ll go right away Father. Do ye think $5,000 is  enough to donate for the service?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father Patrick exclaimed, “Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus! Why didn’t ye  tell me the dog was Catholic?!&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/1114549818146647877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/1114549818146647877' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/1114549818146647877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/1114549818146647877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/04/religous-dog.html' title='Religous dog'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-6037111997996975294</id><published>2010-04-13T07:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-13T07:51:54.244-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="police"/><title type='text'>A police officer attempts...</title><content type='html'>A police officer attempts to stop a car for speeding and the guy  gradually increases his speed until he&#39;s topping 100 mph. He eventually  realizes that he can&#39;t escape and finally pulls over.&lt;br /&gt;The cop approaches the car and says, &quot;It&#39;s been a long day and my tour  is almost over, so if you can give me a good excuse for your behavior,  I&#39;ll let you go.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;The guy thinks for a few seconds and then says, &quot;My wife ran away with a  cop about a week ago. I thought you might be that officer trying to  give her back!&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/6037111997996975294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/6037111997996975294' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/6037111997996975294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/6037111997996975294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/04/police-officer-attempts-to-stop-car-for.html' title='A police officer attempts...'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-5217581160507946784</id><published>2010-04-11T14:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T14:13:05.622-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sports"/><title type='text'>Favorite sport</title><content type='html'>A blind man was describing his favorite sport - skydiving. When asked how this was accomplished, he said that things were all done for him. &quot;I am placed in the door and told when to jump,&quot; he said. &quot;My hand is placed on my release ring for me, and out I go.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;But how do you know when you are going to land?&quot; he was asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;I have a very keen sense of smell and I can smell the trees and grass when I am 300 feet from the ground,&quot; he answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;But how do you know when to lift your legs for the final arrival on the ground?&quot; he was again asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He quickly answered, &quot;Oh, my dog&#39;s leash goes slack.&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/5217581160507946784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/5217581160507946784' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/5217581160507946784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/5217581160507946784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/04/favorite-sport.html' title='Favorite sport'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-8734534455281017783</id><published>2010-04-09T14:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-09T14:56:57.074-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="school"/><title type='text'>Principal</title><content type='html'>&quot;Isn&#39;t the principal a dummy!&quot; said a boy to a girl.&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Say, do you know who I am?&quot; asked the girl.&lt;br /&gt;&quot;No.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;I&#39;m the principal&#39;s daughter.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;And do you know who I am?&quot; asked the boy.&lt;br /&gt;&quot;No,&quot; she replied.&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Thank goodness!&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/8734534455281017783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/8734534455281017783' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/8734534455281017783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/8734534455281017783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/04/principal.html' title='Principal'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3038431768741090483.post-3319778953456236727</id><published>2010-04-07T13:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-07T13:22:27.072-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sports"/><title type='text'>Baseball in heaven</title><content type='html'>There are these two guys named John and Cliff. They were best friends and were so obsessed with baseball that they would go to 60 games a year and analyze every scoreboard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They even promised each other that when one of them goes to heaven, the deceased one would come back and tell the other whether there was baseball in heaven or not. One night Cliff dies in his sleep after watching a Chicago White Sox game -- Chicago won, so at least he died a happy man. The next day Cliff returns to earth to see his friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Hi, John.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Cliff, is it really you?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Hey, I told you I’d be back to tell you what’s up. And, you know John, there’s good news and bad news.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Okay. What’s the good news?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;There is baseball in heaven.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;The bad news?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;You’re pitching tomorrow night.&quot;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/feeds/3319778953456236727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/3038431768741090483/3319778953456236727' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/3319778953456236727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3038431768741090483/posts/default/3319778953456236727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dayajoke.blogspot.com/2010/04/baseball-in-heaven.html' title='Baseball in heaven'/><author><name>blogger2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11647987716917184602</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>