Nicknames

Imagine, if you will, three temperate southern (US) women rocking away on a porch as the sultry summer's day comes to a slow end. The horizon is awash with the sun's setting hues. A few pesky no-see-ums fly about. The first lady speaks up in her slow, southern drawl and says: "Sisters, I've been thinking. Each of us has a husband whose name is LeRoy. It's been mighty confusing lately. Sometimes when I yell 'LeRoy!!' your husband comes and sometimes yours answers and once in a while mine comes. I think it's time we rename our husbands to end the confusion. "Quiet returns to the porch scene only to be interrupted by the creaking of the hold rocking chairs on the loose planks. The first lady again speaks up and says, "I think I'll name my husband 'Seven-UP'". "Why, sister, why are you going to name your husband 'Seven-UP'?" queries one of the old gals. "Why, he's got seven inches and it's always up!" replies the first lady. The second lady then muses a bit and says, "I think I'm going to name my LeRoy 'Mountain Dew'." "Why, sister, why are you going to name him 'Mountain Dew'?" "Well, cuz mountin' is one thing he do real well," the second lady says. Both then turn to the third woman as she rocks slowly in her chair and of her they ask, "And, what will you name your husband, sister?" "I've been thinking that I just might name him 'Jack Daniels'," she said. "Why, sister, Jack Daniels is a hard liquor!!""That's my LeRoy!", the third woman responds.

 

Yo Mama - Powdered Milk

Yo Mama's so old she got powdered milk in her boobs!

Handling Teens

A wise old gentleman retired and purchased a modest home near a junior high school. He spent the first few weeks of his retirement in peace and contentment. Then a new school year began. The very next afternoon three young boys, full of youthful, after-school enthusiasm, came down his street, beating merrily on every trash can they encountered. The crashing percussion continued day after day, until finally the wise old man decided it was time to take some action.
The next afternoon, he walked out to meet the young percussionists as they banged their way down the street. Stopping them, he said, "You kids are a lot of fun. I like to see you express your exuberance like that. In fact, I used to do the same thing when I was your age. Will you do me a favor? I'll give you each a dollar if you'll promise to come around every day and do your thing." The kids were elated and continued to do a bang-up job on the trash cans.
After a few days, the old-timer greeted the kids again, but this time he had a sad smile on his face. "This recession's really putting a big dent in my income," he told them. "From now on, I'll only be able to pay you 50 cents to beat on the cans."
The noisemakers were obviously displeased, but they did accept his offer and continued their afternoon ruckus. A few days later, the wily retiree approached them again as they drummed their way down the street. "Look," he said, "I haven't received my Social Security check yet, so I'm not going to be able to give you more than 25 cents. Will that be okay?" "A lousy quarter?" the drum leader exclaimed. "If you think we're going to waste our time, beating these cans around for a quarter, you're nuts! No way, mister. We quit!" And the old man enjoyed peace.