Five surgeons

Five surgeons were discussing who makes the best patient to operate on.

The first surgeon said, “I like to see accountants on my operating table because when you open them up, everything inside is numbered.”

The second surgeon responded, “Yeah, but you should try electricians. Everything inside them is color-coded.”

The third surgeon said, “I really think librarians are the best because everything inside them is in alphabetical order.”

The fourth surgeon chimed in. “You know, I like construction workers. Those guys always understand when you have a few parts left over.”

Finally, the fifth surgeon shut them all up when he observed, “You're all wrong! Politicians are the easiest to operate on: there's no guts, no heart, no balls, no brains, no spine, and the head and the butt are interchangeable.”

Say what?

It was Grandma and Grandpa’s 50th wedding anniversary, and all day long the house had been buzzing with relatives and friends offering congratulations. The whole thing had tired out the guests of honor. Toward evening, Grandma and Grandpa were taking advantage of the quiet in the parlor.

“Martha,” said Grandpa reflectively, “I’m proud of you.”

“What’s that, Pa?” Martha asked. “You know I can’t hear you without my hearing aid.”

“I said, ‘I’m proud of you.’”

“That’s all right,” she murmured. “I’m tired of you, too.”

Tie me up!

One day, a man came home and was greeted by his wife dressed in a very sexy negligee.

“Tie me up,” she purred, “and you can do anything you want.”

So he tied her up and went golfing.

Careful with that iPhone

I was at the gym recently when I suddenly realized that I needed to fart. A song from the group KISS was playing really loud, so I timed my farts with the beat of the music. I grunted out five strong, loud ones back-to-back. After the song, I started to feel better.

As I sat up from the bench press I noticed that my fellow gym rats were staring me down with a look of disgust and disdain. That's when I remembered I’d been listening to music on my iPhone.

Scotch with two drops of water

A lady goes into a bar on a cruise ship and orders a Scotch with two drops of water. As the bartender gives her the drink she says, “I'm on this cruise to celebrate my 80th birthday and it's today.”

The bartender says, “Well, since it's your birthday, I'll buy you a drink. In fact, this one is on me.”

As the woman finishes her drink, the woman to her right says, “I would like to buy you a drink, too.”

The old woman says, “Thank you. Bartender, I want a Scotch with two drops of water.”

“Coming up,” says the bartender.

As she finishes that drink, the man to her left says, “I would like to buy you one, too.”

The old woman thanks him and says, “Bartender, I want another Scotch with two drops of water.”

“Coming right up,” the bartender says.

As he gives her the drink, he says, “Ma'am, I'm dying of curiosity. Why the Scotch with only two drops of water?”

The old woman replies, “Sonny, when you're my age, you've learned how to hold your liquor. Holding your water, however, is a whole other issue.”

Doctors’ stories

A man comes into the ER and yells, “My wife's going to have her baby in the cab!” I grabbed my stuff, rushed out to the cab, lifted the lady's dress, and began to take off her underwear. Suddenly, I noticed that there were several cabs—and I was in the wrong one.

At the beginning of my shift, I placed a stethoscope on an elderly and slightly deaf female patient's anterior chest wall. “Big breaths,” I instructed. “Yes, they used to be,” she replied.

One day I had to be the bearer of bad news when I told a wife that her husband had died of a massive myocardial infarct. Not more than five minutes later, I heard her reporting to the rest of the family that he had died of a “massive internal fart.”

During a patient's follow-up appointment, he informed me, his doctor, that he was having trouble with one of his medications. “Which one?” I asked. “The patch,” he said. “The nurse told me to put on a new one every six hours, and now I'm running out of places to put it!” I had him quickly undress, and discovered what I hoped I wouldn't see. Yes, the man had over 50 patches on his body! Now the instructions include removal of the old patch before applying a new one.

While acquainting myself with a new elderly patient, I asked, “How long have you been bedridden?” After a look of complete confusion, she answered, “Why, not for about twenty years—when my husband was alive.”

A nurse was on duty in the emergency room when a tattooed young woman with purple hair styled into a punk-rocker Mohawk entered. It was quickly determined that the patient had acute appendicitis, so she was scheduled for immediate surgery. When she was completely disrobed on the operating table, the staff noticed that her pubic hair had been dyed green, and above it there was a tattoo that read, “Keep off the grass.” Once the surgery was complete, the surgeon wrote a short note to the patient that read, “Sorry, had to mow the lawn.”