Funny Jokes – Blonde Jokes

A little old lady wanted to join a biker club. She knocked on the door of a local biker club and a big, hairy, bearded biker with tattoos all over his arms answers the door.

She proclaims “I want to join your biker club.”

The guy was amused and told her that she needed to meet certain biker requirements before she was allowed to join.

So the biker asks her “You have a bike?”

The little old lady says “Yea, that’s my Harley over there” and points to a Harley parked in the driveway.

The biker asks her “Do you smoke?”

The little old lady says “Yea, I smoke. I smoke 4 packs of camels a day and a couple of cigars while I’m shooting pool.”

The biker is impressed and asks “Well, have you ever been picked up by the Fuzz?”

The little old lady says “No, never been picked up by the fuzz, but I’ve been swung around by my nipples a few times.”

How do I know that my youth is all spent?
Well, my get up and go has got up and went.
But in spite of it all I am able to grin
when I recall where my get up has been.

Old age is golden-so I’ve heard it said-
but sometimes I wonder when I get into bed,
with my ears in a drawer and my teeth in a cup,
my eyes on the table until I wake up.

Ere sleep dims my eyes I say to myself,
“Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?”
And I’m happy to say as I close my door,
my friends are the same, perhaps even more.

When I was young, my slippers were red,
I could pick up my heels right over my head.
When I grew older, my slippers were blue,
but still I could dance the whole night through.

But now I am old, my slippers are black,
I walk to the store and puff my way back.
The reason I know my youth is all spent,
my get up and go has got up and went.

But I really don’t mind when I think, with a grin,
of all the grand places my get up has been.
Since I have retired from life’s competition,
I accommodate myself with complete repetition.

I get up each morning, and dust off my wits,
pick up my paper and read the “obits”.
If my name is missing, I know I’m not dead,
so I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed

There’s quite an art to falling apart as the years go by,
And life doesn’t begin at 40. That’s a big fat lie.
My hair’s getting thinner, my body is not;
The few teeth I have are beginning to rot.

I smell of Vick’s-Vapo-Rub, not Chanel # 5;
My new pacemaker’s all that keeps me alive.
When asked of my past, every detail I’ll know,
But what was I doing 10 minutes ago?

Well, you get the idea, what more can I say?
I’m off to read the obituary, like I do every day;
If my names not there, I’ll once again start -
Perfecting the art of falling apart

I am a senior citizen…

- I’m the life of the party… even when it lasts ’till 8pm.

- I’m very good at opening childproof caps with a hammer.

- I’m usually interested in going home before I get to where I’m going.

- I’m good on a trip for at least an hour without my aspirin, antacid…

- I’m the first one to find the bathroom wherever I go.

- I’m awake many hours before my body allows me to get up.

- I’m smiling all the time because I can’t hear a word you’re saying.

- I’m very good at telling stories…over and over and over and over.

- I’m aware that other people’s grandchildren are not as bright as mine.

- I’m so cared for: long-term care, eye care, private care, dental care.

- I’m not grouchy, I just don’t like traffic, waiting, children, politicians…

- I’m positive I did housework correctly before the Internet.

- I’m sure everything I can’t find is in a secure place.

- I’m wrinkled, saggy and lumpy, and that’s just my left leg.

- I’m having trouble remembering simple words like… uh…

- I’m realizing that aging is not for sissies.

- I’m walking more (to the bathroom) and enjoying it less.

- I’m sure they are making adults much younger these days.

- I’m in the *initial* state of my golden years: SS, CD’s, IRA’s, AARP.

- I’m wondering, if you’re only as old as you feel, how could I be alive at 150?

- I’m anti-everything now: anti-fat, anti-smoke, anti-noise, anti-inflammatory.

- I’m a walking storeroom of facts… I’ve just lost the key to the storeroom.

- I’m a Senior Citizen and I think I am having the time of my life… Aren’t I?

Worried because they hadn’t heard anything for days from the widow in the neighboring apartment, Mrs. Silver said to her son, “Timmy, would you go next door and see how old Mrs. Kirkland is?”

A few minutes later, Timmy returned.

“Well,” asked Mrs. Silver, “is she all right?”

“She’s fine, except that she’s angry at you.”

“At me?” the woman exclaimed. “Whatever for?”

“She said ‘It’s none of your business how old she is,’” snickered Timmy.

A young man asked an old rich man how he made his money.

The old guy fingered his worsted wool vest and said, “Well, son, it was 1932. The depth of the Great Depression. I was down to my last nickel.”

“I invested that nickel in an apple. I spent the entire day polishing the apple and, at the end of the day, I sold the apple for ten cents.”

“The next morning, I invested those ten cents in two apples. I spent the entire day polishing them and sold them at 5:00 pm for 20 cents. I continued this system for a month, by the end of which I’d accumulated a fortune of $1.37.”

“Then my wife’s father died and left us two million dollars.”