Harold is 95 and lives in a Senior Citizen Home. Every night after dinner, Harold goes to a secluded garden behind the center to sit and ponder his accomplishments and long life. One evening, Mildred, age 87, wanders into the garden. They begin to chat and before they know it, several hours have passed. After a short lull in their conversation, Harold turns to Mildred and asks, "You know what I miss most of all?" She asks, "What?" "Sex!", he replies. Mildred exclaims, "Why you old fart. You couldn't get it up if I held a gun to your head!" "I know", Harold says, "but it would be nice if a woman could just hold it for....a while?” Afterward, they agree to meet secretly each night in the garden where they would sit and talk while Mildred holds Harold's manhood. Then one night Harold didn't show up at their usual meeting place. Alarmed, Mildred decided to find Harold and make sure he was ok. She walked around the Senior Citizen Home where she found him sitting by the pool with Ethel, another female resident, who was holding Harold’s manhood! Furious, Mildred yelled, "You two-timing son of a b***h! What does Ethel have that I don't have?" Harold smiled happily and said, "Parkinson's"
Lynn and Ruth were doing some carpenter work on a Habitat for Humanity House. Lynn was nailing down house siding, would reach into her nail pouch, pull out a nail and either toss it over her shoulder or nail it in. Ruth, figuring this was worth looking into, asked, 'Why are you throwing those nails away?' Lynn explained, 'When I pull a nail out of my pouch, about half of them have the head on the wrong end and I throw them away.' Ruth got completely upset and yelled, 'You moron! Those nails aren't defective! They're for the other side of the house!'
Hooker went in to prepare her taxes. Accountant asked "What do you do?" "I am a lady of the night" was the reply. "Nope, can't use that." said the accountant. "Lets try again. What do you do?" "I'm a prostitute" was the lady's reply. "Nope, can't use that, either." said the accountant. With some frustration, the lady said, "OK, OK, I am a chicken farmer." To which the accountant replied incredulously, "What?" "Yeah, I raise little peckers," was the reply. The accountant typed, C H I C K E N F A R M E R, and the interview continued.
A little guy is sitting at the bar staring at his drink when a large, threateningly leering biker steps up next to him, grabs his drink and gulps it down in one swig. "Well, watcha' gonna do about it?" he says menacingly, as the little guy bursts into tears. "Come on, man," the biker says, " I didn't think you'd CRY. I can't stand to see a man crying." "This is the worst day of my life," says the little guy. "I'm a complete failure. I was late to a meeting, and my boss fired me. When I went to the parking lot, I found my car stolen and I don't have any insurance. I left my wallet in the cab I took home. I found my wife in bed with the gardener and then my dog bit me." "So I came to this bar to work up the courage to put an end to it all. I buy a drink, I drop a capsule in, and sit here watching the poison dissolve. Then a wise-ass like you shows up and drinks the whole thing!"
