Thursday, January 19, 2006

Friday Morning Confessional

Confession, it is good for the soul. Try it sometime....

Okay, for starters today, I am writing and posting this on a Thursday night. Most of you won't read it until Friday, so I think it counts as my Friday confessional.

When I was a youngin' I was a dirty joke tellin' aficionado. I perfected the dirty joke telling beginning in second grade. I love telling dirty jokes and I knew them all. I would study the jokes, listen to how they were told to me and make them better. I would take out the parts that were not needed, I would change the venue to make more sense and I would never, ever, throw a 'like' or an 'um' in my jokes, unless, it was a blonde joke (apologies, to all the blondes who read this). I practiced accents, tones and delivery speed. I could tell dirty jokes and yes, I understood the nuances of each and every one of them, even at an early age. I shocked my parents and most adults when I started, but eventually, they could not help but laugh, because, I was that good.

So, my goal with all of this was to write the quintessential dirty joke. I would tell it and it would be my lasting gift to the world. I would someday write a book of dirty jokes, funny ones too, split-your-side-laughing, funny. I worked and thought about my joke for years and after accumulating so many jokes over time, I simply could not come up with a subject that had not already been satirized by someone else. Alas, it was just not to be. Just a couple of months ago, I heard a segment on NPR, announcing that the joke is dead. I had a small moment of silence for my lost dream.

So, I leave for your reading pleasure, my all-time favorite dirty joke.

A boy walks into a whorehouse throws his dead frog and a couple of dollars on the counter and shouts to the man behind the counter, "I want the filthiest, most pox ridden whore, you have!"

"Now, son, you don't want that, you would get a disease from her."

"Yes, I know, but if I get a disease, my babysitter will get a disease. If she gets the disease, my dad will get the disease and if he gets the disease, my mom will get the disease. If my mom gets the disease, then, the mailman will get the disease and he's the fucker, WHO RAN OVER MY FROG!!"
posted by Ditsy Chick @ 8:48 PM |

23 comments

<< Home