One day, Mr. Phillard rushed his pregnant wife over to the hospital. As the doctors were prepping his wife, Mr. Phillard’s idiot brother Bill arrived to watch the birth. But when Mr. Phillard saw the blood and everything else, he fainted. When Mr. Phillard woke up he was in a bed with the doctor standing above him.

“Mr. Phillard,” the doctor said, “you are in the recovery room. Don’t worry, your wife is fine and she had twins, a boy and a girl. Because you were unconscious and your wife was still under anaesthesia, she requested that your brother Bill name the kids.”

“What! My brother, the idiot! I can’t believe you let him! What did he name them?”

“He named your daughter Denise.”

“Hey, not bad! I underestimated my brother. What did he name my son?”

“He named your son Denephew.”

Sarcastic MySpace Comments

Little Sally came home from school and with a smile on her face and told her mother. “Frank Brown showed me his willy today!”

Before the mother could raise a concern, Sally went on to say, “It reminded me of a peanut”

Relaxing with a hidden smile, Sally’s Mum asked, “Really small was it?”

Sally replied, “No…salty!”

Americas Best Sarcastic MySpace Comments

The husband was angry when he found out that his wife had been cheating on him.

He shouts at her, “I will play second fiddle to no one!”

She replies, “Second fiddle? You are lucky you are still in the band!”

Sarcastic MySpace Comments

When someone puts in for Child Support, the proper thing to do is to find out who the father is and see why he is not providing support.

The following are all replies that Dallas women have written on Child Support Agency forms in the section for listing father’s details.

Or putting it another way…Who’s yo Daddy! These are genuine excerpts from the forms.

———————

Find more starnge, yet fuuny, stuff like this on Americas Best.

1. Regarding the identity of the father of my twins, child A was fathered by Jim Munson, I am unsure as to the identity of the father of child B, but I believe that he was conceived on the same night.

2. I am unsure as to the identity of the father of my child as I was being sick out of a window when taken unexpectedly from behind. I can provide you with a list of names of men that I think were at the party if this helps.

3. I do not know the name of the father of my little girl. She was conceived at a party at 3600 Grand Avenue where I had unprotected sex with a man I met that night. I do remember that the sex was so good that I fainted. If you do manage to track down the father, can you send me his phone number? Thanks.

4. I don’t know the identity of the father of my daughter. He drives a BMW that now has a hole made by my stiletto heels in one of the door panels. Perhaps you can contact BMW service stations in this area and see if he’s had it replaced.

5. I have never had sex with a man. I am still a Virginian. I am awaiting a letter from the Pope confirming that my son’s conception was immaculate and that he is Christ risen again.

6. I cannot tell you the name of child A’s dad as he informs me that to do so would blow his cover and that would have cataclysmic implications for the economy. I am torn between doing right by you and right by the country. Please advise.

7. I do not know who the father of my child as all blacks look the same to me.

8. Peter Smith is the father of child A. If you do catch up with him, can you ask him what he did with my AC/DC CDs? Child B who was also borned at the same time…. well I don’t have a clue.

9. From the dates it seems that my daughter was conceived at Disney World; maybe it really is the Magic Kingdom.

10. So much about that night is a blur. The only thing that I remember for sure is Delia Smith did a program about eggs earlier in the evening. If I’d have stayed in and watched more TV rather than going to the party at 146 Miller Drive, mine might have remained unfertilized.

11. I am unsure as to the identity of the father of my baby, after all when you eat a can of beans you can’t be sure which one made you fart.

Stop thinking with your groin….. and read on, ya’ filthy pervert!

Friday night I ventured out of the apartment to take in the local nightlife at a ‘spot’ called The Money. Those familiar with this area have most likely heard of the place and have definite opinions about the place. In general, people either love it or hate it with NO inbetween opinions. I, for one, like the place, but then again I go there to drink a few at their outside bar and people watch, not to get laid… although I wouldn’t necessarily OPPOSE an opportunity like that if it came my way. I am human after all.

But anyways, let us return to the matter of a questionable pussy at an odd hour of the morning. I left around 10:30 PM and at that time, to my knowledge, we had no pussy in the apartment. My roommate, a guy, had gone to his bed over an hour ago and no one else had been at the apartment all night.

I returned home later that night, more like a few hours before dawn, and found myself staring at noisy pussy in my living room. Um, WTF?!? My roommate does not LIKE pussy — of the feline kind. He pretty much HATES pussy — of the feline kind.

So, mildly intoxicated and totally confused I attempted to figure out a plausible explanation for the unexpected presence of pussy in the apartment. A lamp had fallen off an end table to the floor and a set of blinds had also come down. Damn that pussy got wild in the apartment!

Nope. No logical answers could I come up with so naturally I yelled upstairs with the intention of awakening my roommate so we could talk about this new pussy that I found. He lumbered down the stairs and looked at me as though I had lost my damn mind. I HAD lost my damn mind and it was all over the mysterious pussy in the apartment.

He denied all knowledge of the pussy and alluded to the fact that I must have brought it home with me from the bar. Um, hello? I went to a bar, not an animal shelter! He said he heard a cat in the apartment and dismissed it as part of a dream… apparently my roommate does not find it odd to dream about strange pussy. I don’t know about you, but I recognize all the pussies in MY dreams!

So, in the interest of personal sanity I locked the pussy in my room with me and passed out. The pussy curled up behind me and purred its way to sleep, apparently content with my having stroked it for a while.

I woke up to the pleasant feeling of a pussy grinding against my thigh and quickly realized the pussy in my bed did not belong to me. I had to get rid of it quickly because strange pussy might have diseases and damn that pussy made a lot of noise!

So, after explaining to the pussy that it needed to get back to its home, I walked downstairs and pussy came right behind me. Spoke briefly with my roommate who had assumed his normal place in from the of the television watching college football and he re-stated his lack of knowledge about the origin of the pussy.

Well, given that we live in a moderate climate and the cat obviously had a home someplace in the complex, as evidenced by the fact its owner(s) had taken the time to clips its balls off at some point, we opened the front door and let the pussy go free. We didn’t kick it out or throw it out, though. We merely gave it the option to leave and as expected, the pussy looked out the doorway, looked back at us, meowed loudly with a cute purring sound mixed in, and headed out.

Funny how pussy can enter your life so unexpectedly and depart just the same. For those that have never seen pussy, I will share my pussy pics with you. Yep. Free pussy pics.

Stop snickering, ya’ filthy little pervert! And put away the hand lotion, too!

What makes this story so great? Aside from the gratuitous and almost completely unnecessary use of the word pussy, this really happened. Somehow the cat slipped into the apartment while one of us came or went that night and got trapped all by its lonesome until I staggered home at, um, well, that’s a secret.

FAKE FRiENDS: Never ask for food.
REAl FRiENDS: are the reason you have no food.

FAKE FRiENDS: Call your parents Mr/Mrs
REAl FRiENDS: Call your parents DAD/MOM

FAKE FRiENDS: bail you out of jail and tell you what you did was wrong.
REAl FRiENDS: Would sit next to you sayin’, “Damn … we fucked up … but that shit was fun!”

FAKE FRiENDS: never seen you cry.
REAl FRiENDS: cry with you

FAKE FRiENDS: Borrow your stuff for a few days then give it back.
REAl FRiENDS: keep your shit so long they forget its yours.

FAKE FRiENDS: know a few things about you.
REAl FRiENDS: Could write a book about you with direct quotes from you.

FAKE FRiENDS: Will leave you behind if that is what the crowd is doing.
REAl FRiENDS: Will kick the whole crowds ass that left you.

FAKE FRiENDS: Would knock on your front door.
REAl FRiENDS: Walk right in and say “I’M HOME!”

FAKE FRiENDS: Are for awhile.
REAl FRiENDS: Are for life.

FAKE FRiENDS: Will take your drink away when they think you’ve had enough.
REAl FRiENDS: Will look at you stumbling all over the place and say “Bitch drink the rest of that you know we don’t waste shit.”

FAKE FRiENDS: will talk shit to the person who talks shit about you.
REAl FRiENDS: Will knock them the fuck out

A man calls home to his wife and says, “Honey I have been asked to go fishing at Everglades City, a town in Florida, with my boss and several of his friends. We’ll be gone for a week. This is a good opportunity for me to get that promotion I’ve been wanting so would you please pack me enough clothes for a week and set out my rod and tackle box. We’re leaving from the office and I will swing by the house to pick my things up. Oh, AND Please pack my new blue silk pajamas.”

The wife thinks this sounds a little fishy, but being a good wife, she does exactly what her husband asked.

sarcastic myspace comments…. get some!

The following weekend he came home a little tired but otherwise looking good. The wife welcomes him home and asks if he caught many fish?

He says, “Yes! Lot’s of Trout, some Red Fish, and a few Snook… But, honey, why didn’t you pack my new blue silk pajamas like I asked?”

The wife replies “Oh, dear but I did pack them. They were in your tackle box.”

Americas Best MySpace Sarcastic Comments

Defense Attorney:

Will you please state your age?

Little Old Lady:

I am 92 years old.

Defense Attorney:

Will you tell us, in your own words what happened the night of April 1st?

Little Old Lady:

There I was, sitting there in my swing, on my front porch on a warm spring evening, when a young man comes creeping up on the porch and sat down beside me.

Defense Attorney:

Did you know him?

Little Old Lady:

No, but he sure was friendly.

Defense Attorney:

What happened after he sat down?

Little Old Lady:

He started to rub my thigh.

Defense Attorney:

Did you stop him?

Little Old Lady:

No, I didn’t stop him.

Defense Attorney:

Why not?

Little Old Lady:

It felt good. Nobody had done that since my Abner died some 30 years ago.

Defense Attorney:

What happened next?

Little Old Lady:

He began to rub my breasts.

Defense Attorney:

Did you stop him then?

Little Old Lady:

No, I did not stop him.

Defense Attorney:

Why not?

Little Old Lady:

His rubbing made me feel all alive and excited. I haven’t felt that good in years!

Defense Attorney:

What happened next?

Little Old Lady:

Well, by then, I was feeling really “spicy” so I just laid down and told him “Take me, young man. Take me!”

Defense Attorney:

Did he take you?

Little Old Lady:

Hell, no! He just yelled, “April Fools!” And that’s when I shot him, the little bastard!

Sarcastic MySpace Comments

Are you a Democrat, Republican or Southerner? Here is a little test that will help you decide:

SCENARIO:

You’re walking down a deserted street with your wife and two small children. Suddenly, an Islamic Terrorist with a huge knife comes around the corner, locks eyes with you, screams obscenities and some seemingly unintelligible things about Jihad, raises the knife, and charges at you with the tenacity of a raging rhino.

You are carrying a Glock 40 handgun and you are an expert shot. You have mere seconds before he reaches you and your family. What do you do? Below are your options, in no particular order:

• The Democrat’s Reply
• The Republican’s Reply
• The Southerner’s Reply