The testicles of a midget hurt and ached almost all the time. So he went to the doctor and told him about his problem.

The doctor told him to drop his pants and he would take a look. The midget dropped his pants. The doctor stood him up onto the examining table, and started to examine him.  He put one finger under his left testicle and told the midget to turn his head and cough, the usual method to check for a hernia.

"Aha!" mumbled the doctor, and as he put his finger under the right testicle, he asked the midget to cough again.
 
"Aha!" said the doctor once more, and reached for his surgical scissors. Snip-snip-snip-snip on the right side… then snip-snip-snip-snip on the left side.

The midget was so scared he was afraid to look, but noted with amazement that the snipping did not hurt. The doctor then told the midget to walk around the examining room to see if his testicles still hurt. The midget was absolutely delighted as he walked around the room and discovered his boys were no longer aching.

The doctor asked, "How does that feel now?"

The midget replied, "Perfect Doc, and I didn’t even feel it. What did you do?"

The doctor replied with a smile,  "I cut two inches off the top of your cowboy boots."

And the midget lived happily after.  Adieu!

Flynn staggered home very late after another evening with his drinking buddy, Paddy. He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife, Mary. He tiptoed as quietly as he could toward the stairs leading to their upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step. As he caught himself by grabbing the banister, his body swung around and he landed heavily on his buns. A whiskey bottle in each back pocket broke and made the landing especially painful.

Managing not to yell, Flynn sprung up, pulled down his pants, and looked in the hall mirror to see that his butt cheeks were cut and bleeding. He managed to quietly find a full box of Band-Aids and began putting a Band-Aid as best he could on each place he saw blood.

He then hid the now almost empty Band-Aid box and shuffled and stumbled his way to bed.

In the morning, Flynn woke up with searing pain in both his head and butt and Mary staring at him from across the room.

She said, "You were drunk again last night weren’t you, Flynn?"

Flynn said, "Why honey, do you say such a mean and humiliating thing?"

"Well," Mary said, "it could be the open front door, it could be the broken glass at the bottom of the stairs, it could be the drops of blood trailing through the house to your bed, it could be your bloodshot eyes, but mostly…..it’s all those Band-Aids stuck on the hall mirror."

On my 65th birthday, I got a gift certificate from my wife. The certificate paid for a visit to a shaman living on a nearby reservation who was rumored to have a wonderful cure for erectile dysfunction.  After being persuaded, I drove to the reservation, handed my ticket to the shaman, and wondered what I was in for.

The old man slowly, methodically produced a potion. He handed it to me, and with a grip on my shoulder, warned, “This is powerful medicine and it must be respected. You take only a teaspoonful and then say, ‘1-2-3′. When you do that, you will be longer and harder than you have ever been in your life and you can perform as long as you want.”

I was greatly encouraged. As he walked away, I turned and asked, “How do I stop the medicine from working?”

“Your partner must say ‘1-2-3-4′ when she’s had enough,” the shaman replied. “But when she does, the medicine will not work again until the next full moon.”

I was eager to see if it worked. I went home, showered, shaved, took a spoonful of the medicine, and then invited my wife to join me in the bedroom. When she came in, I took off my clothes and said, “1-2-3!” Immediately, I was the manliest of men.

My wife took one look at me. She was so excited she began throwing off her clothes. She jumped onto the bed and excitedly asked, “What was the ‘1-2-3′ for?”

And that, boys and girls, is why we should never end our sentences with a preposition.  Auf wiedersehen!

A blonde teenager, wanting to earn some extra money for the summer, decided to hire herself out as a "handy-woman" and started canvassing a nearby well-to-do neighborhood.

She went to the front door of the first house, and asked the owner if he had any odd jobs for her to do.

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Two bored casino dealers are waiting at the crap table. A very attractive blonde woman from South Alabama arrived and bet twenty-thousand dollars on a single roll of the dice.

She said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I feel much luckier when I play topless.”
With that, she stripped to the waist; rolled the dice; and yelled, “Come on, baby….Southern Girl needs new clothes!”

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