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Enjoy this week’s jokes!
Jennifer was a pretty 18 year old girl. In the week before Christmas, she sauntered up to the curtain counter, and was trying to decide which of the many types of tinsel she would buy. Finally, she made her choice and asked the spotty youth who was manning the fabric section, “How much is this gold tinsel garland.”
The spotty youth pointed to the Christmas mistletoe above the counter and said, “This week we have a special offer, just one kiss per metre.”
“Wow, that’s great,” said Jennifer, “I’ll take 12 metres.”
With expectation and anticipation written all over his face, the boy measured out the tinsel, wrapped up the garland, and gave it to Jennifer.
She then called to an old man who had been browsing through the Christmas trees and said, “My Grandpa will settle the bill.”
Why are women’s breasts like a train set a kid gets at Christmas time?
Because they were originally made for children, but the father wants to play with them.
A little boy sits on Santa’s lap. Santa says, “I bet I know what you want for Christmas,” and with his finger he taps the boy’s nose and with every letter he spells “T-O-Y-S.”
The little boy thinks a second and says, “No, I have enough toys.”
Santa replies once again tapping the boys nose with every letter, “C-A-N-D-Y.”
Again the little boy thinks a second and says, “No, I have all kinds of candy.”
“Well what would you like for Christmas?” Santa asks.
The little boy replies, tapping Santa on the nose, “‘P-U-S-S-Y,’ and don’t tell me you don’t have any, because I can smell it on your finger!”
Santa was very cross.
It was Christmas Eve and nothing was going right. The elves were complaining about not getting paid overtime.
The reindeer had been drinking all afternoon and the sleigh was broken.
Santa was furious. “I can’t believe it!” he yells. “I’ve got to deliver millions of presents all over the world in just a few hours – all of my reindeer are drunk, the elves are on strike and I don’t even have a Christmas tree! I sent that stupid little angel to find one hours ago! What am I going to do?”
Just then, the little angel opens the front door and steps in from the snowy night, dragging a Christmas tree. “Oi fatty!” she says. “Where’d you want me to stick this?”
And thus the tradition of angels atop the Christmas trees came to pass.
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