Barishnikov – Enemy at the gate

Clasa a 8-a. Profesorul de atelier era tare mindru de noua poarta din fier forjat pe care noi, cei din clasa sa preferata, o terminasem si o instalasem la intrarea in curtea scolii. Lucrasem la ea trei saptamini; masurat, taiat si indoit bare de otel, sudat, vopsit, tot tacimul. Pauza mare. Tipete, alergaturi, drame, copilarii. Un zdrahon din clasa a 7-a se urca pe poarta si alti doi o imping inainte-inapoi, ca pe o pendula. Vizibil, poarta se lasa sub greutatea zdrahonului, ajungind sa atinga pamintul. Profesorul de atelier, nervos, il cheama pe neispravit la ordine:

– Ba, tu stii cit am muncit noi la poarta aia?

(mucles)

– Ia sa-l chemi pe tac’tu s-o repare! Ce e tac’tu?

– Balerin!

Deci da!

 

The Irishman And The Mormon

A Mormon was seated next to an Irishman on a flight from London.

After the plane was airborne, drink orders were taken. The Irishman asked for a whiskey, which was promptly brought and placed before him.

The flight attendant then asked the Mormon if he would like a drink. He replied in disgust: “I’d rather be savagely raped by a dozen whores than let liquor touch my lips.”

The Irishman then handed his drink back to the attendant and said: “Me too, I didn’t know we had a choice!!!”