Slay.me

A  nun, badly needing to use to the restroom,  walked into a local Hooters. The place was  hopping with music and loud conversation and  every once in a while ‘the lights would turn  off.’

Each time the lights would go out,  the place would erupt into  cheers.

However, when the revelers saw  the nun, the room went dead silent. She walked  up to the bartender, and asked, ‘May I please  use the  restroom?

The  bartender replied, ‘OK, but I should warn you  that there is a statue of a naked man in there  wearing only a fig leaf.’

‘Well, in  that case, I’ll just look the other way,’ said  the nun. So the bartender showed the nun to the  back of the restaurant.

After a few  minutes, she came back out, and the whole place   stopped just long enough to give the nun a  loud round of  applause.

She  went to the bartender and said, ‘Sir, I don’t  understand. Why did they applaud for me just  because I went to the  restroom?’

Well,  now they know you’re one of us,’ said the  bartender, ‘Would you like a drink?’

‘No  thank you, but, I still don’t understand,’ said  the puzzled  nun.

‘You see,’ laughed  the bartender, ‘every time someone lifts the   fig leaf on that statue, the lights  go out.

Now, how about that  drink?’

Here are some of the best Occupy Wall St. Jokes and Cartoons we could find, feel free to post some more as you find them!

Occupy Wall Street Jokes:

Q: Out of money, an OWS protester uses an ATM and it asks if he will accept a $1 fee. He knows the money will just go to a greedy, corrupt bank. Does he hit “Yes”?
A: Sure, it’s his parents’ card anyway.

Q: What is the least heard question at Occupy Wall Street?
A: Can I borrow your soap”

Over the weekend in New York, two Occupy Wall Street protesters got married at the protest. They are registered at Bed, Bath, and Seriously, You Need to Take a Bath.
A weary OWS protester returns to college.
Roommate: “How are you?”
Protester: “Not so great. I have body lice, the flu, and a screaming case of gonorrhea.”
Roommate: “You caught the flu?”

Q: What’s the difference between Barack Obama’s nebulous whatever-you-want-it-to-mean 2008 campaign and OWS?
A: Three years.

Q: What’s the difference between intentionally provoking a caged bear in a zoo and intentionally provoking a tired cop in Manhattan?
A: Bearbaiting is illegal.

Q: What’s the difference between Rick Perry and the aimlessness of OWS?
A: Rick Perry is debatable.

Q: What’s the difference between the NBA and OWS?
A: People are waiting for one to come back and for the other to go away.

Q: What’s the difference between soccer and OWS?
A: Goals.

Q: What do the OWSers stand for?
A: They’re pro-lice.

Q: What’s the difference between a puppy and a occupy wall street protester?
A: Eventually the puppy stops whining.

A woman runs up to a cop and says, “Help me, I was just raped by an OWS protester.”
Cop says, “How do you know he was an OWS protester.”
Woman says, “I had to help.

Top 10 Occupy Wall Street Cartoons:

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 (God I should have gone to the gym !!) 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 will 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 covers your butt 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 e-x-h-a-u-s-t-e-d.

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 dedicated to women everywhere who deal with public restrooms (rest??? you’ve GOT to be kidding !!) It finally explains to the men why it 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 !