SMS and Jokes

Bars and Drinking (Jokes)

Why do seals only drink Schweppes? Cos Canadian Club goes straight to their head!

HANGOVERS One Star Hangover () No pain. No real feeling of illness. You're able to function relatively well. However, you are still parched. You can drink 5 sodas and still feel this way. For some reason, you are craving a steak & fries. Two Star Hangover () No pain, but something is definitely amiss. You may look okay, but you have the mental capacity of a staple gun. The coffee you are chugging is only increasing your rumbling gut, which is still tossing around the fruity pancake from the 3:00 AM Waffle House excursion. There is some definite havoc being wreaked upon your bowels. Three Star Hangover () Slight headache. Stomach feels crappy. You are definitely not productive. Anytime a girl walks by you gag because her perfume reminds you of the flavored schnapps shots your alcoholic friends dared you to drink. Life would be better right now if you were home in your bed watching Lucy reruns. You've had 4 cups of coffee, a gallon of water, 3 iced teas and a diet Coke --- yet you haven't peed once. Four Star Hangover () Life sucks. Your head is throbbing. You can't speak too quickly or else you might puke. Your boss has already lambasted you for being late and has given you a lecture for reeking of booze. You wore nice clothes, but that can't hide the fact that you only shaved one side of your face. (For the ladies, it looks like you put your makeup on while riding the bumper cars.) Your eyes look like one big red vein, and even your hair hurts. Your sphincter is in perpetual spasm, and the first of about five shits you take during the day brings water to the eyes of everyone who enters the bathroom. Five Star Hangover, () You have a second heartbeat in your head, which is actually annoying the employee who sits in the next cube. Vodka vapor is seeping out of every pore and making you dizzy. You still have toothpaste crust in the corners of your mouth from brushing your teeth in an attempt to get the remnants of the poop fairy out. Your body has lost the ability to generate saliva so your tongue is suffocating you. You don't have the foggiest idea who the hell the stranger was passed out in your bed this morning. Any attempt to defecate results in a fire hose like discharge of alcohol-scented fluid with a rare 'floater' thrown in. The sole purpose of this 'floater' seems to be to splash the toilet water all over your ass. Death sounds pretty good right about now...

A guy leaves his place at the bar to go have a piss. He comes back about 10 minutes later, sits down at the bar, muttering and swearing very softly. The barkeep approaches the customer and asks what the problem is. "Oh some son-of-a-bitch snuck up behind me while I was at the urinal and put a gun to my head". "Ouch! What happened?" "He told me to give him a blow job or he'd blow my brains out!" "Yeah, then what?" "Well you didn't hear a gun shot, did you???"

A lady goes to the bar on a cruise ship and orders a Scotch with two drops of water. As the bartender gives her the drink she says, "I'm on this cruise to celebrate my 80th birthday and it's today." The bartender says "Well, since it's your birthday, I'll buy you a drink. In fact, this one is on me." As the woman finishes her drink, the woman to her right says, "I would like to buy you a drink, too." The old woman says, "Thank you. Bartender, I want a Scotch with two drops of water." "Coming up," says the bartender. As she finishes that drink, the man to her left says, "I would like to buy you one, too." The old woman says, "Thank you. Bartender, I want another Scotch with two drops of water." "Coming right up," the bartender says. As he gives her the drink, he says, "Ma'am, I'm dying of curiosity. Why the Scotch with only two drops of water?" The old woman replies, "Sonny, when you're my age, you've learned how to hold your liquor. Holding your water, however, is a whole other issue."

A cowboy walks into a bar and orders a whisky. When the bartender delivers the drink, the cowboy asks, "Where is everybody?" The bartender replies, "They've gone to the hanging." "Hanging? Who are they hanging?" "Brown Paper Pete," the bartender replied. "What kind of a name is that?" the cowboy asked. "Well," says the bartender. "He wears a brown paper hat, brown paper shirt, brown paper trousers and brown paper shoes." "How bizarre," said the cowboy. "What are they hanging him for?" "Rustling," said the bartender.

A man walks into a bar. He is obviously drunk and staggers up to the counter, seats himself on a stool and with a belch, asks the bartender for a drink. The bartender politely informs the man that it appears he has already had plenty to drink and that he will not be served additional liquor. The bartender offers to call a cab for him. The drunk is briefly surprised, then softly scoffs, grumbles, climbs down from the bar stool and staggers out the front door. A few minutes later, the same drunk stumbles in the side door of the bar. He wobbles up to the bar and hollers for a drink. The bartender comes over and politely if not more firmly - refuses service to the man and again offers to call a cab. The drunk looks at the bartender for a moment angrily, curses and leaves via the side door, all the while grumbling and shaking his head. A few minutes later, the same drunk bursts in through the back door of the bar. He plops himself up on a bar stool, gathers his wits and belligerently orders a drink. The bartender comes over and emphatically reminds the man that he is drunk and will be served no drinks. He then tells him that he can either call a cab or the police immediately. The surprised drunk looks at the bartender and in hopeless anguish cries: "Man! How many bars do you work at?"

A man decides to take off early from work and go drinking. He stays until the bar closes at 2am, by which time he is extremely drunk. When he enters his house, he doesn't want to wake anyone, so he takes off his shoes and starts tip-toeing up the stairs. Half-way up the stairs, he falls over backwards and lands flat on his rear end. That wouldn't have been so bad, except that he had couple of empty pint bottles in his back pockets and they broke. The broken glass carved up his buttocks terribly. But he was so drunk that he didn't know he was hurt. A few minutes later, as he was undressing, he noticed blood and checked himself out in the mirror. Sure enough, his backside was cut up something terrible. Well, he repaired the damage as best he could under the circumstances and went to bed. The next morning, his head was hurting, his rear was hurting and he was hiding under the covers trying to think up a good story when his wife came into the bedroom. "Well, you really tied one on last night," she said: "where'd you go?" "I worked late," he said: "and stopped off for a couple of beers." "A couple of beers? That's a laugh," she said: "you must have got really plastered last night." "What makes you so sure I got drunk last night, anyway?" "Well," she said: "my first big clue was when I got up this morning and found a bunch of band-aids stuck to the mirror."

A man walks into a bar with a large paper bag. He sits down and places the bag on the counter. The bartender greets him and asks: 'what's in the bag?' The man reaches into the bag and pulls out a little man, about a foot high, then sets him on the counter. He reaches back into the bag and this time pulls out a small piano, placing it on the counter too. He reaches into the bag yet again and pulls out a tiny piano bench, which he placed in front of the piano. The little man sits down at the piano and starts playing a beautiful piece by Mozart. "Where on earth did you get him?" Says the bartender. The man responded by reaching into the paper bag yet again. This time he pulls out a magic lamp. He handed it to the bartender and said: "Here, rub it." So the bartender rubbed the lamp and suddenly there's a great gust of smoke and a beautiful genie is standing before him. "I will grant you one wish. Anything you like ... but each person is only allowed one!" The bartender got really excited. Without hesitation he said: "I want a million bucks!" Moments later, a duck walks into the bar. It is soon followed by another duck, then another. Pretty soon, the entire bar is filled with ducks and they kept coming. The bartender turned to the man and said: "Y'know, I think your genie's a bit deaf. I asked for a million bucks, not a million ducks." "I know, I know, you don't have to tell me," said the man: "do you really think I asked her for a 12 inch pianist?"

This is what you get when you mix beer with viagra!

Coming into the bar and ordering a double, the man leaned over and confided to the bartender, "I'm so pissed off!" "Oh yeah? What happened?" asked the bartender politely. "See, I met this beautiful woman who invited me back to her home. We stripped off our clothes and jumped into bed and we were just about to make love when her god damned husband came in the front door. So I had to jump out of the bedroom window and hang from the ledge by my fingernails!" "Gee, that's tough!" commiserated the bartender. "Right, but that's not what really got me aggravated," the customer went on. "When her husband came into the room he said, 'Hey great! You're naked already! Let me just take a leak.' And damned if the lazy son of a bitch didn't piss out the window right onto my head." "Yeech!" the bartender shook his head. "No wonder you're in a lousy mood." "Yeah, but I haven't told you what really, really got to me." "Next, I had to listen to them grunting and groaning and when they finished, the husband tossed his condom out of the window. And where does it land? My damned forehead!" "Damn, that really is a drag!" says the bartender. "Oh, I'm not finished. See what really pissed me off was when the husband had to take a dump. It turns out that their toilet is broken, so he stuck his ass out of the window and let loose right on my head!" The bartender paled. "That would sure mess up my day." "Yeah, yeah, yeah," the fellow rattled on, "but do you know what REALLY, REALLY, REALLY pissed me off? When I looked down and saw that my feet were only SIX inches off the ground!"

A cowboy walks into a bar in Texas, orders three mugs of Miller and sits in the back 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 approaches and tells the cowboy, "You know, a mug goes flat after I draw it, it would taste better if you bought one at a time." The cowboy replies, "Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in Australia, the other is in Dublin, and I'm in Texas. When we all left home, we promised that we'd drink this way to remember the days we drank together. So I drink one for each of my brothers and one for myself." The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there. The cowboy becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way. He orders three mugs and drinks them in turn. One day, he comes in and orders two mugs. All the regulars take 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 loss." The cowboy looks quite puzzled for a moment, then a light dawns and he laughs. "Oh, no, everybody's just fine," he explains, "It's just that my wife and I joined the Baptist Church in Sweetwater and I had to quit drinking. Hasn't affected my brothers though."

A belligerent drunk walks into a bar and hollers: "I can lick any man in the place!" The nearest customer looks him up and down, then says: "Crude, but direct. Tell me, is this your first time in a gay bar?"

A chap walks into a pub and orders himself a beer. He notices that Vincent Van Gogh is sitting on the next stall, and asks him if he wants a beer. "No thanks," replied Vincent, "I've got one ear."

So why do I keep falling over when I'm drunk?

Two men at a bar had been enjoying a few drinks for the past couple of hours. One of them notices a beautiful woman sitting in the corner. One says to the other, "Jeez, I'd really like to dance with that girl." The other replies, "Well go ahead and ask her, don't be a chicken shit." So the man approaches the lovely woman and says, "Excuse me. Would you be so kind as to dance with me." Seeing the man is totally drunk the woman says, "I'm sorry. Right now I'm concentrating on matrimony and I'd rather sit than dance." The man humbly returns to his friend. "So what did she say?" he asks. "She said she's constipated on macaroni and would rather shit her pants."

After noticing a beautiful young blonde sitting on her own in a pub, a suave, sophisticated young man confidently strolled over to the table where she was sat and said: "What can I get you, gorgeous?" The woman blushed and replied: "If you're sure you don't mind, I'll have a large stiff one, please." The man smiled, casually leaned over the table, and whispered into the woman's ear: "Would that be before or after I've got the drinks?"

Returning from the men's room, a bar customer was shaking his head. "What's the matter?" inquired the bartender. "While I was in the bathroom back there, I noticed among the scribblings on the wall, and one that said: 'WENDY GIVES REALLY FABULOUS HEAD - ABSOLUTELY THE GREATEST B. J. IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD!'" replied the customer. "Ah buddy, I wouldn't give it a second thought, we get jerks in here like anywhere else," said the bartender. "I know," continue the headshaker. "One of them has scratched out the phone number!"

A guy is sitting at the bar just staring at his drink for half an hour when this big trouble-making truck driver steps next to him, grabs his drink and gulps it down in one swig. The poor little guy starts crying. "Come on man, I was just giving you a hard time," says the truck driver:" I'll buy you another drink. I just can't stand to see a man crying." "This is the worst day of my life," says the little guy between sobs: " I can't do anything right. I overslept and was late to an important meeting, so my boss fired me. When I went to the parking lot, I found my car was stolen and I have no insurance. I grabbed a cab home but, after the cab left, I discovered my wallet was still in the cab. At home I found my wife in bed with the gardener. So I came to this bar trying to work up the courage to put an end to my life, and then you show up and drink the damn poison..."

Two blokes staggered into the pub, dragging their extremely pissed mate with them. When they reached the bar, they let him go and he collapsed in a drunken heap on the floor. "I'll have two beers," one of them slurred to the bartender. "What about him?" asked the barkeep, pointing to the unconscious chap. "No more for him - he's driving," the patron answered.

The other night I was invited out for a night with "the girls." I told My husband that I would be home by midnight, "I promise!" Well, the hours passed and the margaritas went down way too easy. Around 3 a. m., a bit loaded, I headed for home. Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckooed 3 times. Quickly, realizing my husband would probably wake up, I cuckooed another 9 times. I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution (even when totally smashed), in order to escape a possible conflict with him. The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, and I told him "Midnight". He didn't seem pissed off at all. Whew! Got away with that one! Then he said, "We need a new cuckoo clock." When I asked him why?, he said, "Well, last night our clock cuckooed three times, then said, "Oh, shit.", cuckooed 4 more times, cleared it's throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the coffee table and farted."

Did you hear about the rheumatoid alcoholic? Every night he gets stiff in a different joint.

A cocktail party is an affair where a mans gets stiff, a woman gets tight, and they return home to find that neither is either.

I've noticed the strangest thing about men who hang out in bars a lot. It seems they have only one of two reasons to be there: They have no wife to go home to... or they do.

A well-dressed gentleman entered an upscale restaurant in the East End of Manhattan, and took a seat at the bar. The bartender came over and asked "What can I get you to drink, sir?" The gentleman responded, "Nothing, thank you. I tried alcohol once, didn't like it, and never tried it again." The bartender was a bit perplexed, but being a friendly sort, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered the gentleman one. The gentleman refused, saying, "I tried smoking once, didn't like it, and never did it again. The point is, I wouldn't be in here at all, except that I'm waiting for my son." The bartender retorted, "Your only child, I presume?"

St. Patrick Day Self-Help Guide St. Patrick's Day: the one day of the year when the 2% of the world's population that's Irish gets the other 98% completely shitfaced. Leg 1: 7 a. m. to 9 a. m. Rise and shine early. Take a long, hot shower, and liberally use aftershave, perfume, cologne, deodorant and powders afterwards, because by 3p. m., you will be excreting raw alcohol and other poisons, and without proper preparations, you will smell like a three-day dead cat wrapped in a fraternity carpet. The bars open at 9, so use this time to prepare. Collect the following supplies and put them in a place where you will easily be able to find it in an impaired condition. We recommend the bathroom floor, between the toilet and the baseboard heater, since that's where you'll probably end up: 1 quart spring water 1 bottle aspirin 5 pairs Depends undergarment 1 bottle Percocet 1 gram morphine sulphate 1 oz. human adrenaline extract 1 precharged electric defibrillator 4 Cardiac needles 1 trauma surgeon Brew a strong pot of coffee. Add 9 oz. Jameson Irish whiskey, drink. Note that coffee should be drank liberally throughout the day. There is a reason that the Irish invented Irish Coffee; unless you ingest a large volume of artificial stimulants throughout the course of St. Patrick's Day, you are going to die. Arrange to be picked up to be taken to the bar by 8:45 a. m. We cannot stress enough that you should not drink and drive. There is no reason to chance losing your license or killing someone in a drunken state when you have plenty of idiot friends willing to take that risk on your behalf. Leg 2: 9 a. m. to 11 a. m. Arrive at the bar right when it opens. Make sure this is an Irish bar if at all possible. An Irish bar in Boston is the best alternative, since Boston in Gaelic means West Kilarney. However, almost every city in America has bars called The Blarney Stone, McSomethings, or The Dirty Mick. Just try to ignore the fact that the bar is probably owned by Koreans. Secure a barstool and do not leave it under any circumstances. The bar is liable to be packed by noon, and real Irish people do not wait in line for drinks, no matter what the consequences. While we do recommend the use of an adult undergarment to mask unpleasant smells, it really doesn't matter. By afternoon, you'll be sopping wet with spilled beer anyway, and your mild urine smell will be completely overpowered by the toxic stench of vomit. We recommend starting out with a few more Irish Coffees to spike the stimulant level, however, you should not order an "Irish Coffee," as you will be given a fruity little glass mug topped with whipped cream and a cherry, and some guy named Seamus will call you a yuppie poseur while putting a cigarette out on your neck. Ask for coffee with whiskey and ask the bartender to leave the whipped cream can, as nothing will add spice to your day like the occasional whippet. Leg 3: 11 a. m. to 2 p. m. It's lunchtime! You may not be hungry, but it's important to eat something, because like Sheriff Bart said in Blazing Saddles:" Man drink like that, and don't eat, he is going to die." If you want to maintain your buzz and not get that hideous, bloated feeling that could slow down your drinking, there are only two options: popcorn or Pop Tarts. Both have the carbohydrates you'll need to give you energy, both will soak up excess bile in your stomach, and both have names that are hard to slur. If you start slurring your words too early, you'll hear the most frightening phrase in the English language on St. Patrick's Day besides I'm pregnant: "You're cut off". By now, you should switch off of coffee drinks to beer. You have only one option here: Guinness stout. You may be tempted to order green beer, but remember: beer doesn't always turn green because of food colouring. Leg 3: 2 p. m. to 7 p. m. By now, the bar is definitely crowded as people take long brunches and bail out of church early to tie one on. If you're doing your job correctly, the bar should look twice or three times as crowded as it really is. By now, you may be in conversation with some real Irish people, since the person you came with has likely been taken away by ambulance. Some conversational points to remember when talking to the Irish are: Football really means Soccer and you should be more passionate about it than you are about your wife or husband, AND The English are all piss-arsed, pig-fucking bastards who should be lined up and kicked into the Liffey. If you remember those two points, as well at least three derogatory names for Margaret Thatcher, you can talk to the Irish for hours. You should continue to drink Guinness throughout this leg, although you may want to have another Irish Coffee if your heartbeat has become irregular. The Home Stretch: 7 p. m. to Closing Your goal, of course, is to be the last person to leave the bar at closing time. This will be impossible, since a blood alcohol content of .50 usually equals death, and you should be pushing a .35 or .40 by now. The only way for a true Irishman to leave a bar before closing time with honour is to be hauled away by the police. Throw a punch. It doesn't matter who you hit or why; no one's made any sense since 3 o'clock, anyway. You will be beaten mercilessly, since your fine motor control has been gone since the late morning, but it doesn't matter since you can't feel anything. Depending on your community, the police should arrive within fifteen minutes to scrape you off the floor and clap you in irons. The final impression you leave is the most important: as you are being dragged from the bar, begin screaming that you want to take your drink with you. You will be a legend, and by now the friend who took you to the bar should have had his or her stomach pumped, and will be able to bail you out. By following these simple guidelines, your St. Patrick's Day experience would be one you would never forget if it weren't physically and biologically impossible for you to remember any of it. Tune in next week for our next self- help guide: The Pros and Cons of Waking Up Naked In a Dumpster.

A drunk walks into a bar and stands next to a wise ass. The wise ass walks up to a woman seated at the bar and whispers, "Tickle your ass with a feather?" The lady spins around indignantly and says, "What did you say to me?" "Particular' nasty weather!" answers the wise ass. "Oh," says the woman. The drunk thinks this is uproariously funny. The wise ass moves on to another lady, saying, "Tickle your ass with a feather?" After the lady asks him to repeat his profane inquiry, he answers, "Particular' nasty weather!" "Well yes it is, she answers." The drunk can stand it no longer, and asks the wise ass if he could try the little joke. "Be my guest," replies Mr Smarty-pants. So the drunk walks up to a likely young woman and blurts out, "Fuck you... It's raining."

Every Friday afternoon, a mathematician goes down to the bar, sits in the second-to-last seat, turns to the last seat, which is empty, and asks a girl who isn't there if he can buy her a drink. The bartender, who is used to weird university types, always shrugs but keeps quiet. But when Valentine's Day arrives, and the mathematician makes a particularly heart-wrenching plea into empty space, curiosity gets the better of the bartender, and he says, "I apologize for my stupid questions, but surely you know there is NEVER a woman sitting in that last stool. Why do you persist in asking out empty space?" The mathematician replies, "Well, according to quantum physics, empty space is never truly empty. Virtual particles come into existence and vanish all the time. You never know when the proper wave function will collapse and a girl might suddenly appear there." The bartender raises his eyebrows. "Really? Interesting. But couldn't you just ask one of the girls who comes here every Friday if you could buy HER a drink? Never know --she might say yes." The mathematician laughs. "Yeah, right -- how fucking likely is THAT to happen?"

Myrddin was arrested for selling home-stilled whiskey. His lawyer put him on the stand and asked the jurors to look carefully at his client. "Now, Ladies and Gentleman of the jury," concluded the lawyer, "you've looked carefully at the defendant. Can you sit there in the jury and honestly believe that if my client had a quart of whiskey he would sell it?" He was acquitted.

Brenda O'Malley is home making dinner, as usual, when Tim Finnegan arrives at her door. "Brenda, may I come in?" he asks. "I've somethin' to tell ya." "Of course you can come in, you're always welcome, Tim. But where's my husband?" "That's what I'm here to be tellin' ya, Brenda. There was an accident down at the Guinness brewery..." "Oh, God no!" cries Brenda. "Please don't tell me..." "I must, Brenda. Your husband Shamus is dead and gone. I'm sorry." Finally, she looked up at Tim. "How did it happen, Tim?" "It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat of Guinness Stout and drowned." Oh my dear Jesus! But you must tell me true, Tim. Did he at least go quickly?" "Well, no Brenda... no." "No?" "Fact is, he got out three times to pee."

A fellow is talking to his Irish buddy and says, "I gotta stop drinking that Irish whiskey" "How come?" asked his friend. "Because every Saturday night I go out and drink a fifth of the stuff, come home, make mad passionate love to the wife, wake up Sunday morning, and go to church." "What's wrong with that?" the Irishman asks. "A lot of good Irishman go out on Saturday night, drink a fifth of good Irish whiskey, come home, do the wife, and go to mass on Sunday." "I know," said his friend, "but I'm Jewish."

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Jokes