There is a medical distinction between Guts and Balls. We've all heard about people having Guts or Balls. But do you really know the difference between them? In an effort to keep you informed, here are the definitions: GUTS - Is arriving home late after a night out with the guys, being met by your wife with a broom, and having the Guts to ask: 'Are you still cleaning, or are you flying somewhere?' BALLS - Is coming home late after a night out with the guys, smelling of perfume and beer, lipstick on your collar, slapping your wife on the butt and having the Balls to say: 'You're next, Chubby.' I hope this clears up any confusion on the definitions. Medically, speaking there is No difference in the outcome. Both result in death. |
Showing posts with label lmao. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lmao. Show all posts
Friday, July 8, 2011
Medical distinction between Guts and Balls
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
TheOnesDay® *
One day in the future, Barack Obama has a heart-attack and dies. He immediately goes to hell, where the devil is waiting for him.
“I don’t know what to do here,” says the devil. “You are on my list, but I have no room. You definitely were meant to be here, so I tell you what I’m going to do. I’ve got a few folks here who weren’t quite as useless as you. I’ll let one of them go, but you have to take their place, I’ll even let YOU choose who leaves.”
Obama thought that sounded pretty good, so the devil opened the door to the first room. In it was Ted Kennedy and a large pool of water. Ted kept diving in, and surfacing, empty handed. Over, and over, and over he dove in and surfaced with nothing. Such was his fate in hell.
“No,” Obama said. “I don’t think so. I’m a weak swimmer, and I don’t think I could do that all day long.”
The devil led him to the door of the next room. In it was Al Gore with a sledgehammer and a room full of rocks. All he did was swing that hammer, time after time after time.
“No, this is no good; I’ve got this problem with my weak shoulder. I would be in constant agony if all I could do was break rocks all day,” commented Obama.
The devil opened a third door. Through it, Obama saw Bill Clinton, lying on the bed, his arms tied over his head, and his legs restrained in a spread-eagle pose. Bent over him was Monica Lewinsky, doing what she does best.
Obama looked at this in shocked disbelief, and finally said, “Yeah man, I can handle this.” The devil smiled and said .. . . . .
“I don’t know what to do here,” says the devil. “You are on my list, but I have no room. You definitely were meant to be here, so I tell you what I’m going to do. I’ve got a few folks here who weren’t quite as useless as you. I’ll let one of them go, but you have to take their place, I’ll even let YOU choose who leaves.”
Obama thought that sounded pretty good, so the devil opened the door to the first room. In it was Ted Kennedy and a large pool of water. Ted kept diving in, and surfacing, empty handed. Over, and over, and over he dove in and surfaced with nothing. Such was his fate in hell.
“No,” Obama said. “I don’t think so. I’m a weak swimmer, and I don’t think I could do that all day long.”
The devil led him to the door of the next room. In it was Al Gore with a sledgehammer and a room full of rocks. All he did was swing that hammer, time after time after time.
“No, this is no good; I’ve got this problem with my weak shoulder. I would be in constant agony if all I could do was break rocks all day,” commented Obama.
The devil opened a third door. Through it, Obama saw Bill Clinton, lying on the bed, his arms tied over his head, and his legs restrained in a spread-eagle pose. Bent over him was Monica Lewinsky, doing what she does best.
Obama looked at this in shocked disbelief, and finally said, “Yeah man, I can handle this.” The devil smiled and said .. . . . .
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