Chat Jokes / Recent Jokes

Bunny and Bob, two frequent users of a chat room, discovered that they had a lot in common. Eventually, they abandoned the chat room for a more intimate correspondence. After months of virtual kinkiness, the two decided to meet each other face-to-face at a small cafe.

Bunny arrived a little late. One customer, a short, frail man with an eye patch, sat at the back of the cafe.

"Are you Bob?" asked Bunny.

"Yes I am," said Bob.

"Unbelievable!" Bunny exclaimed. "You told me that you were tall, dark and handsome."

"How do you think I feel?" Bob asked, his face turning red. "You told me that you were skinny, blonde, and... female!"

Jill phoned her husband, John, at work for a chat. "I'm sorry dear," said John, "but I'm up to my neck in work today. I don't have time to chat."
Jill replied, "But I've got some good news and some bad news for you, dear."
"OK darling," said John, "but as I've got no time right now, just give me the good news."
"Okay," agreed Jill. "Well, the air bag works...bye!"

I, THE UNDERSIGNED, AGREE THAT...
1. In the unlikely event of my not having an orgasm after you've drunkenly rolled on top of me and pumped away for five minutes, wheezing like an old man with emphysema, I shall politely fake one. And it'll be a really good act too, with me saying stuff like "So THIS is screwing!" and howling like a cat that's being repeatedly jabbed with a needle.
2. I fully understand that a woman's main role in any relationship is to take the blame. So when you stub your toe in the bathroom or your football teams lose, I agree that - by some complex scientific equation incomprehensible to woman - it will be my fault. Even if I wasn't there.
3. Whenever my friends and I get together for a girlie chat, I will tell them that you are better hung than a large-balled Himalayan yak.
4. And I will also mention this to YOUR friends. A lot.
5. After sex (which I will NEVER refer to as "making love"), I will not expect you to cuddle me more...

A CHAT WITH YOUR MOM
by Lou & Peter Berryman.
Oh the Pirates in there fetted galleons,
daggers in their skivies
With Infected Tattooed fingers
on a blunderbuss or two (BLUNDERBUSS = musket like gun)
Signs of scurvy in there eyes
and only mermaids on there minds.
Its from them I would expect to hear the F-word
not from you
(CHORUS)
We sit down to have a chat
its F-word this and F-word that
I can't control how you young people
talk to one another
But I don't want to hear you use
that F-word with your mother
And the lumberjack from Kodiak (a city in Alaska)
Vacationing in Ancherage
Enchanged with their Pine-Tar Soup
and Caribou Shampoo
With seven weeks of backpay
in their airomatic woolens
Its from them I would expect to hear the F-word
not from you
(REPEAT CHORUS)
There are Militant Survivalists
with gucci bandoleros
Taking tacky-kacki walkie-talkies
to the more...

I, ___________________, the undersigned, agree that: in the highly unlikely event of my not having an orgasm after you've drunkenly rolled on top of me and pumped away for two minutes, wheezing like an old man with emphysema, (as is entirely normal and in accordance with the natural order of things) I shall politely fake one. It'll be a really good act too, with me saying stuff like "Ooooh, do me slow; you're so good, you're the best" and howling like a cat that's being repeatedly jabbed with a compass.

Should your mother show me any photos of you as a child, like those ones taken at your auntie's wedding where you've got a velvet bow tie and a Pudding-bowl haircut, I shall make no comment. Ever. Or even look at you in a way that suggests they are at all "funny".

I fully understand that a woman's main role in any relationship is to take the blame. So when you stub your toe in the bathroom or your football team loses, I agree that - by some more...

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house.
Not a creature was stirring, except for my mouse.
No kids lived with me, so I thought I would chatter.
There'd be no damn reindeer, and so stupid clatter.
There'd be no fat elf coming through my chimney.
I'll be alone, my computer and me.
I won't race to the window to see him arrive.
I'll just sit right here... with windows ninety-five.
There's no one I know, as I'm surfing around.
None of my regular buddies are found.
I went in some chat rooms but quickly got out.
Age, sex, location is all that's about.
As I was about to go check out the net.
I got an E-mail which I didn't expect.
A lady told me she had read my profile.
And, asked if I might like to chat for a while.
She said if I didn't, then she would just leave.
But she was so lonely, on this Christmas Eve.
She said it's the first time, she'd ever been on.
But, she heard, more...

On the twelfth day of AOL those buttheads gave to me,
12 reasons to cancel,
11 channels not working,
10 hours without mail,
9 frozen chat rooms,
8 hours of busy signals,
7 frozen IMs,
6 disconnections,
5 web crashes,
4 idiots at tech help,
3 error messages,
2 pieces of junk mail,
and a jerk cursing in a chat room.