7 Kinds Of Sex ....
The 1st kind of sex is called ... Smurf Sex.
This kind of sex happens when you first meet
someone and you both have sex until you are
blue in the face.
The 2nd kind of sex is called ... Kitchen Sex.
This is when you have been with your partner for
a short time and you are so needy you will have
sex anywhere, even in the kitchen.
The 3rd kind of sex is called ... Bedroom Sex.
This is when you have been with your partner for a
long time. Your sex has gotten routine and you
usually have sex only in your bedroom.
The 4th kind of sex is called ... Hallway Sex.
This is when you have been with your partner for too
long. When you pass each other in the hallway you
both say ... 'Fukk You.'
The 5th kind of sex is called ... Religious Sex.
which means you get Nun in the morning, Nun in the
afternoon and Nun at night. (Very Popular)
The 6th kind is called ... Courtroom Sex.
This is when you cannot stand your wife/husband any more. She/he
takes you to court and screws you in front of everyone.
And . Last ... But not least ...
The 7th kind of sex is called ... Social Security Sex.
You get a little each month. But not enough to enjoy yourself.
Two Middle East mothers are sitting in a cafe chatting over a plate of tabouli and a pint of goat's milk.
The older of the two pulls a bag out of her purse and starts flipping through photos. They start reminiscing.
''This is my oldest son, Mujibar. He would have been 24 years old now.''
''Yes, I remember him as a baby'' says the other mother cheerfully.
"He's a martyr now though" the mother confides.
''And this is my second son, Khalid. He would have been 21.''
''Oh, I remember him,'' says the other happily, ''he had such curly hair when he was born.''
''He's a martyr too'' says the mother quietly.
''And this is my third son. My baby. My beautiful Ahmed. "He would have been 18'', she whispers.
"Yes" says the friend enthusiastically, ''I remember when he first started school''
''He's a martyr also,'' says the mother, with tears in her eyes.
After a pause and a deep sigh, the second Muslim mother looks wistfully at the photographs and, searching for the right words, says . . .
"They blow up so fast, don't they?"
A plane crashed in the middle of rural Iowa . Panic stricken, the local sheriff mobilized and descended on the farm in force. When they got there, the disaster was clear. The aircraft was totally destroyed with only a burned hulk left smoldering in a tree line that bordered a farm.
The sheriff and his men entered the smoking mess but could find no remains of anyone.
They spotted a lone farmer plowing a field not too far away as if nothing had happened. They hurried over to the man's tractor.
"Hank," the sheriff yelled, panting and out of breath. "Did you see this terrible accident happen?"
"Yep. Sure did." the farmer mumbled unconcernedly, cutting off the tractor's engine.
"Do you realize that was Air Force One?"
"Yep."
"Were there any survivors?"
"Nope. They's all kilt straight out," the farmer answered. "I done buried them all myself. Took me most of the morning.."
"President Obama is dead?" the sheriff shouted.
"Well," the farmer grumbled, restarting his tractor. "He kept a-saying he wasn't ... But you know how bad that sumbitch lies."
