Encyclopedia of Humor

Three vampires walk into a bar and sit down at a table. The waitress comes over and asks the first vampire what he would like. The first vampire responds, “I vould like some blood.”

The waitress turns to the second vampire and asks what he would like. The vampire responds, “I vould like some blood.”

The waitress turns to the third vampire and asks what he would like. The vampire responds, “I vould like some plasma.”

The waitress looks up and says, “Let me see if I have this order correct. You want two bloods and a blood light?”

An Irishman walks into a bar in Dublin, orders three pints of Guinness and sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more. The bartender asks him, “You know, a pint goes flat after I draw it; it would taste better if you bought one at a time.” The Irishman replies, “Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in America, the other in Australia, and I’m here in Dublin. When we all left home, we promised that we’d drink this way to remember the days when we drank together.” The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there.

The Irishman becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way: ordering three pints and drinking them in turn. One day, he comes in and orders two pints. All the other regulars notice and fall silent. When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, “I don’t want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your great loss.” The Irishman looks confused for a moment, then a light dawns in his eye and he laughs. “Oh, no,” he says, “Everyone’s fine. I’ve just quit drinking.”

Hello, welcome to the mental health hotline.

If you are obsessive compulsive, press 1 repeatedly.

If you are Co-dependent, please ask someone to press 2 for you.

If you have Multiple Personalities, press 3, 4, 5, and 6.

If you are Paranoid, we know who you are and what you want. Stay on the line so we can trace your call.

If you are Delusional, press 7, your call will be transfered to the Mothership.

If you are Schizophrenic, listen carefully, and a small voice will tell you which number to press.

If you are Manic Depressive, it doesn’t matter which button you press. No one will answer anyway.

If you are Dyslexic, press 96969696969696.

If you have a Nervous Disorder, please fidget with the Pound Button until a representative comes on the line.

If you have Amnesia, press 8 and state your name, address, phone number, date of birth, social security number, and your mother’s and grandmother’s maiden names.

If you have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, slowly and carefully press 911.

If you have Bi-Polar Disorder, please leave a message after the beep. Or before the beep. Or after the beep. Please wait for the beep.

If you have short-term memory loss, please try you call again later.

If you have low self esteem, please hang up. All our representatives are busy.

An elderly lady goes into the doctor and tells him – “Doctor, I don’t know what the problem is, but I’ve been farting all the time. It’s not really a problem socially because they don’t make any noise and don’t smell. I just can’t stop farting all the time. In fact while I’ve been in here I must have farted at least 20 times.”

The doctor nods and gives her some pills. “Here take these for two weeks and come see me again when you are done.”

So she takes the pills and returns two weeks later as instructed. Infuriated, she confronted the doctor. “What kind of medicine is this? I’m still farting just as much? They still don’t make any noise, but now they stink terribly!”

The doctor nodded, “It’s alright, now that we have your sinus’ cleared up, we’ll work on your hearing next!”

A man was brought to the hospital, and taken quickly in for emergency surgery. The operation went well, and as the groggy man regained consciousness, he was reassured by a Sister of Mercy, who was waiting by his bed.

“Mr. Smith, you’re going to be just fine,” said the nun, gently patting his hand. “We do need to know, however, how you intend to pay for your stay here. Are you covered by insurance?”

“No, I’m not,” the man whispered hoarsely. “Can you pay in cash?” persisted the nun. “I’m afraid I cannot, Sister.” “Well, do you have any close relatives?” the nun essayed. “Just my sister in New York,” he volunteered. “But she’s a spinster nun.”

“Oh, I must correct you, Mr. Smith. Nuns are not ‘spinsters;’ they are married to God.”

“Really…wonderful,” said Smith. “In that case, you can send the bill to my brother-in-law!