Bears In Bars

A bear walks into a bar in Billings, Montana and sits down. He bangs on
the bar with his paw and demands a beer. The bartender approaches and says, "We don't serve beer to bears in bars in Billings."
The bear, becoming angry, demands again that he be served a beer.
The bartender tells him again, more forcefully, "We don't serve beer to
belligerent bears in bars in Billings."
The bear, very angry now says, "If you don't serve me a beer, I'm going to eat that lady sitting at the end of the bar."
The bartender says, "Sorry, we don't serve beer to belligerent, bully bears
in bars in Billings."
The bear goes to the end of the bar, and, as promised, eats the woman.
He comes back to his seat and again demands a beer.
The bartender states, "Sorry, we don't serve beer to belligerent, bully
bears in bars in Billings who are on drugs."
The bear says, " I'm NOT on drugs."
(...You're gonna love this...)

The bartender says, "You are now. That was a barbitchyouate."

ROFL!!!!!
thanks I needed that!
Give the Wombat a beer and skip the bears beer!

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh Lord.. Roflmbo.. Lolllllll..

"This One is For The Girls"

When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women,
so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check
for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.
Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the
woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It
doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants!
The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom,
no doubt) is handy, but empty.

You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there
isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck,
(Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down
your pants and assume "The Stance." In this position your aging, toneless
thigh
muscles begin to shake.You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't
taken
time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."
To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you
discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you
can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the
seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake
more.
You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on
yesterday -the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around
your neck,
that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same
time). That
would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still
smaller than your thumbnail. Someone pushes your door open because the
latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your
neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against
the tank of the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door,
dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor,
lose
your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It
is
wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late Your
bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the
uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper- not that
there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that
your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain
her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear,
"You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get."
By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused
that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose
against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that Shoots
up Your Bum, and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow
sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet
paper
dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At this point you give up.
You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're
exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your
pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. You can't figure
out
how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your
hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women, still
waiting. You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at
the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from
your shoe.
(Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from
your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you
just
might need this."
As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered,
used and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so
long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?"

This is When You Remember In Highschool, Your GYM Teacher,
Showing You How, and Where to Kick a Molester, Rapist, or
Purse Snatcher..................

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public
restrooms (rest??? you've got to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the
men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly
asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so
the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex
under the door!

No wonder my Tech Design teacher (a woman) wanted us to design a public washroom for the design competition :o .

I have that one in email and you have no IDEA how close to the truth it is! :rolleyes:

Wombat you always make me laugh.

OMG, ROTFLMAO!!!
Who told you?

Two pieces of string walk into the bar in Billings, and seeing the bear at the bar figure it's a fairly open bar. However, the bartender looks at them suspiciously. He says "Sorry, boys, we don't serve your kind here." So the pieces of string walk out again.

They're sitting in the gutter outside and feeling really thirsty when one piece of string says "Hey! I've got an idea to get me into the bar."

So he starts twisting and turning, wriggling this way and that, pulling out a few threads here and there. His mate's looking at him and thinks he's gone completely nuts.

Then the piece of string walks back into the bar. The bartender looks at him a little suspiciously again and says "Here, you're not a bit of string, are you?"

The piece of string replies "No, I'm a frayed knot."

Ha ha ha, that's insane.:p