Slay.me

A sixteen year old virgin girl goes to confession.

“Father, I called a man a son-of-a-bitch yesterday.”

“Why did you call him a son-of-a-bitch??” the priest asked.

“Because, father, he touched me on my arm without permission”

“Do you mean like this??” He touches her arm.

“Yes father.”

“That’s no reason for calling him a son-of-a-bitch.”

“But father he also touched my breasts.”

“You mean like this??” He touches her breasts.

“Yes father.”

“That’s no reason to call him a son-of-a-bitch.”

“But father, he took off my clothes.”

“Like this??” He takes off her clothes.

“Yes father.”

“That’s no reason to call him a son-of-a-bitch.”

“But father he then put his you-know-what in my you-know-where.”

“Like this??” He put his you-know-what in her you-know-where.

“Yes father,” she says sometime later.

“But that’s no reason to call him a son-of-a-bitch.”

“But father, he has AIDS.”

“THAT SON-OF-A-BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!”

For several years, a man was having an affair with an Italian woman..

One night, she confided in him that she was pregnant.Not wanting to ruin his reputation or his marriage, he paid her a large sum of money if she would go to Italy to secretly have the child.

Also if she stayed in Italy to raise the child, he would also provide child support until the child turned 18.

She agreed, but asked how he would know when the baby was born.

To keep it discrete, he told her to simply mail him a post card, and write ‘Spaghetti’ on the back. He would then arrange for the Child Support Payments to begin.

One day, about 9 months later, he came home to his confused wife. ‘Honey, ‘she said, ‘You received a very strange post card today.’

‘Oh, just give it to me and I’ll explain it later,’ he said.

The wife obeyed and watched as her husband read the card, turned white, and fainted.

On the card was written:

Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti.

Three with meatballs, two without.

Send extra sauce

She spends $15,000 and feels pretty good about the results.

On her way home, she stops at a newsstand to buy a newspaper.

Before leaving, she says to the clerk, ‘I hope you don’t mind my asking, but how old do you think I am?’

‘About 32,’ is the reply.

‘Nope! I’m exactly 50,’ the woman says happily.

A little while later she goes into McDonald’s and asks the counter girl the very same question.

The girl replies, ‘I’d guess about 29.’

The woman replies with a big smile, ‘Nope, I’m 50.’

Now she’s feeling really good about herself. She stops in a drug store on her way down the street.

She goes up to the counter to get some mints and asks the clerk this burning question.

The clerk responds, ‘Oh, I’d say 30.’

Again she proudly responds, ‘I’m 50, but thank you!’

While waiting for the bus to go home, she asks an old man waiting next to her the same question.

He replies, ‘Lady, I’m 78 and my eyesight is going. Although, when I was young there was a sure-fire way to tell how old a woman was.

It sounds very forward, but it requires you to let me put my hands under your bra.

Then, and only then can I tell you EXACTLY how old you are.’

They wait in silence on the empty street until her curiosity gets the best of her.

She finally blurts out, ‘What the hell, go ahead.’

He slips both of his hands under her blouse and begins to feel around very slowly and carefully.

He bounces and weighs each breast and he gently pinches each nipple.

He pushes her breasts together and rubs them against each other.

After a couple of minutes of this, she says, ‘Okay, okay … how old am I?’

He completes one last squeeze of her breasts, removes his hands, and says, ‘Madam, you are 50.’

Stunned and amazed, the woman says, ‘That was incredible, how could you tell?’

The old man says, ‘Promise you won’t get mad?’

‘I promise I won’t,’ she says.

‘I was behind you at McDonalds.’