From post #18 in the linked thread, here are mine:
- I learned this one on the SDMB. It was originally posted as a long shaggy dog story, so I’ll summarize.
Two men are wandering through the desert when they come upon a large grouping of tents. Assuming they’ve stumbled into a fair, they go to the first tent and ask the woman standing inside what she may have to offer in the way of refreshment. She replies: “Sponge cake, sweet wine, whipped cream, custard, and a bit of strawberry jam.” Since the men are thirsty for water or pop and in need of nutritious fare, they try the next tent, but the reply is essentially the same: “Sponge cake, whipped cream, sweet wine, custard, and a few gooseberries.” With only minor variations, each vendor greets the travelers with a similar list. Eventually, the men decide to move on. A few miles down the road, one turns to the other and says: “That was rather a weird fair, wasn’t it?” His companion replies: “Now that you mention it, it was just a trifle bazaar!”
- A man walks into a bar and says he’s short of money, so he asks if he can have a free drink. The bartender replies: “Okay, if you can name all fifty states of the USA in alphabetical order, along with the capital of each.” The customer is very smart, and fulfills the terms with ease. The patrons are amazed, and one says: “I’m a musician. In fact, I’m a guitarist, and my buddy Tom is a pianist. We’re supposed to be the entertainment, but Tom hasn’t shown up. If you can play “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” on that piano over there, I’ll give you $50.”
The customer goes over to the battered Steinway in the corner and plays the bluegrass classic perfectly, not even needing the sheet music that the guitarist had provided. Just then, Tom shows up, so the customer gets up from the piano bench and rejoins the drinkers. Naturally, he is the center of attention, as the regulars wonder what other talents he may possess. After shooting the breeze for a few minutes,he approaches the barkeep and says: “Besides being a member of Mensa and a nusical prodigy, I also have the ability to perform amazing feats of skill. In fact, I’ll bet you $100 that I can stand at one end of your bar and piss into a cup at the other end without letting one drop touch the fine mahogany surface. In case you don’t know, the grain tells me the wood was cut in 1936 about 50 miles south of Manaus, Brazil.”
The bartender has no idea if the customer is right about the wood or not, but he does know that the bar is 67 feet from end to end. Since that’s longer than the distance from home plate to the pitcher’s mound on a baseball field, he eagerly takes the bet. The customer stands up, unzips his pants, and lets loose a stream – all over the bar and the bartender, who is cracking up at his wonder client’s utter lack of bladder control. After toweling off and collecting the $100, he asks the customer: “Don’t you feel like an idiot now?” The patron replies: “No, I don’t feel stupid, 'cause I bet those frat boys over there $1000 that I could piss all over your bar, and you’d just laugh!”
- Bill and his wife are on vacation in Mexico. They stop in a restaurant and order tacos and burritos – fare they have some familiarity with. Before they receive their meals, however, they hear a mariachi band start playing as a waiter emerges from the kitchen with a plate containing a bed of rice, upon which sit two huge spherical objects. To much fanfare, the wealthy-looking diner at the best table in the place receives the dish and begins to dig in. Seeing the tycoon’s obvious, near-orgasmic pleasure, Bill catches the waiter’s attention and asks: “What is that man eating? I want to change my order to whatever it is!”
The waiter replies: “First of all, señor, that meal costs $200. Even if you can afford it, you can’t have it today. Only one customer can have it. You see, we are a small town, so our bull ring can only host one fight a day. It just ended about an hour ago. When the fight was over, the bull was killed, and the matador received the ears and tail. What that man over there is eating are los cojones del toro, if you know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do”, Bill replies. “Well, the delight on that fellow’s face is so obvious that I will pay $200 right now – plus a little extra for your trouble – if I can reserve tomorrow’s cojones platter.”
“Certainly, señor. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow at this hour.”
So Bill and his wife spend the next day doing typical tourist things, and return to the restaurant at the appointed time. Bill sits down, the mariachis play, the waiter emerges from the kitchen – and sets down a plate containing two tiny, shriveled cojones. Bill angrily asks: “What is the meaning of this? Are you trying to cheat me? No toro could have such tiny testicles!” The waiter shrugs and explains: “You see, señor, the bull – he does not always lose!”
