9 minutes ago, ballpoint said:

I lived on a train on and off for ten years. The dining car had mirrors inside on each end. We'd get the new guys to play poker sitting with their back to the mirrors...

A man moves into his new apartment in New York and heads to the lobby to put his name on the mailbox. As he’s carefully affixing the label, the door to the adjacent apartment swings open, and out steps an absolutely stunning woman, wrapped in nothing but a silk robe.

She greets him with a warm, inviting smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief. They strike up a casual conversation, but as they chat, her robe gradually starts slipping open, revealing that she’s wearing absolutely nothing underneath.

The poor guy struggles to keep his composure, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he fights to maintain eye contact. His pulse quickens. His hands shake.

Then, with a teasing grin, she gently places a hand on his arm and whispers, “Let’s go inside—I hear someone coming…”

Without a second thought, he follows her in. The door clicks shut behind them, and she leans against it, her expression sultry and playful. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she lets the robe fall completely open.

She tilts her head, eyes full of expectation. “Tell me,” she purrs, “what would you say is my best feature?”

The man, already a nervous wreck, gulps, his mind racing. He stammers, clears his throat, and, after a long, agonizing pause, blurts out, “Uh… your ears!”

Her jaw drops. “My ears?! Look at me! My boobs—perky, all-natural, zero sag! My ass? Flawless, tight, no cellulite! My skin? Smooth, not a single blemish! Out of all this, you pick my ears?!”

Still flustered, he rubs the back of his neck and mutters, “Well… when you said you heard someone coming… that was me.”

How the heck do these guys afford supercars in their 40's ...

Apropos 4th July ...

 

2 hours ago, chickenslegs said:

How the heck do these guys afford supercars in their 40's ...

 

Making sensible life decisions?  🙄

14 hours ago, ballpoint said:

 

I worked in the US some years ago. On the morning of July 4th, I was greeted in the workshop with cries of "It's Kick-a-Brit day"

 

As you might imagine, I was expecting it and replied:

Well, we call it "Cure-a-haemorrhoid day" 

 

There followed a stunned silence.....