Tattoo Parlor

A woman walks into a tattoo parlour and asks, "Do you do custom work?"
"Why of course!"
"Good. I'd like a portrait of Robert Redford on the inside of my right thigh, and a portrait of Paul Newman on the inside of my left thigh."
"No problem," says the artist. "Strip from the waist down and get up on the table." After two hours of hard work, the artist finishes.
The woman sits up and examines the tattoos. "That doesn't look like them!" she complains loudly.
"Oh yes it does," the artist says indignantly, "and I can prove it." With that, he runs out of the shop and grabs the first man off the street he can find; it happens to be the town drunk.
"Well, what do you think?" the woman asks, spreading her legs. "Do you know who these men are?"
The drunk studies the tattoos for a couple of minutes and says. "I'm not sure who the guys on either side are, but the fellow in the middle is definately Willie Nelson!"

Not the Sexiest Man Alive

From David Letterman - Tuesday, January 31, 1995
Top Ten Signs You're Not The Sexiest Man Alive
 
10. When people see you, they often ask, "Is it Halloween already?"
9. You appear in TV Guide crossword puzzle with the clue, "Siskel and ___"
8. The best term to describe you is "super hairy".
7. You parachuted into Super Bowl with a dog and a bag of pretzels.
6. Photos of you used as a birth-control device.
5. You take a stroll and the local zoo is flooded with calls about an escaped orangutan.
4. As you walk toward rack of Speedos, you hear clerks murmuring, "Oh God, no".
3. Your name is Tom Wilkins and you're seated in the 6th row of the Ed Sullivan Theater.
2. Hookers always telling you "Not on the first date".
1. Richard Simmons never follows you home.

Facelift Technology

A woman wants a facelift and her surgeon tells her about a new procedure. "We put a dial in the back of your head and when your skin starts to sag you simply turn the knob." "That sounds good," she says. Two years later, she goes back and tells the surgeon that the dial is giving her bags under her eyes. "I'm sorry," replies the surgeon, "but those aren't bags -- those are your tits." "Oh," says the woman, "well that explains the goatee."