Cookies Jokes / Recent Jokes

Psychologists havediscovered that the manner in which people eat Oreo cookies provides great insight intotheir personalities. Choose which method best describes your favorite method of eatingOreos: 1. The whole thing all at once.
2. One bite at a time
3. Slow and methodical nibbles examining the results of each bite afterwards.
4. In little feverish nibbles.
5. Dunked in some liquid (milk, coffee...).
6. Twisted apart, the inside, then the cookie.
7. Twisted apart, the inside, and toss the cookie.
8. Just the cookie, not the inside.
9. I just like to lick them, not eat them.
10. I don't have a favorite way because I don't like Oreos.Your Personality: 1. The whole thing - this means you consume life with abandon, you are fun to be with, exciting, carefree with some hint of recklessness. You are totally irresponsible. No one should trust you with their children. 2. One bite at a time. You are lucky to be one of the 5.4 billion other people who eat more...

Four men were bragging about how smart their dogs are. The first man was an engineer, the second man was an Accountant, the third man was a Chemist and the fourth was a Government Worker.
To show off, the Engineer called to his dog, "T-square, do your stuff!". T-square trotted over to a desk, took out some paper and a pen, and promptly drew a circle, a square, and a triangle.
Everyone agreed that was pretty smart. But the Accountant said his dog could do better. He called his dog and said, "Slide Rule, do your stuff!". Slide Rule went out into the kitchen and returned with a dozen cookies. He divided them into 4 equal piles of 3 cookies each.
Everyone agreed that was good. But the Chemist said his dog could do better. He called his dog and said, "Measure, do your stuff!". Measure got up, walked over to the fridge, took out a quart of milk, got a 10 ounce glass from the cupboard and poured exactly 8 ounces without spilling a drop.
Everyone more...

An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death's agony, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite sugar cookies wafting up the stairs.
He gathered enough strength to get out bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom.
With even greater effort, he forced his boney fingers to grab the handrail and he went down the stairs, one stumbling step at a time.
With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven.
There, on the kitchen table, spread out in rows upon wax paper, were literally hundreds of his favorite sugar cookies.
Was it heaven? Or, was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife of 60 years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he lunged toward the table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture.
His parched lips were slightly parted. The wondrous taste of more...

"Who in their right mind would ever need more than 640k of ram!?" -- Bill Gates, 1981 "Computers in the future may weigh no more than 1.5 tons." -- Popular Mechanics, forecasting the relentless march of science, 1949 "I think there is a world market for maybe five computers." -- Thomas Watson, chairman of IBM, 1943 "I have traveled the length and breadth of this country and talked with the best people, and I can assure you that data processing is a fad that won't last out the year." -- The editor in charge of business books for Prentice Hall, 1957 "But what. .. is it good for?" -- Engineer at the Advanced Computing Systems Division of IBM, 1968, commenting on the microchip. "There is no reason anyone would want a computer in their home." -- Ken Olson, president, chairman and founder of Digital Equipment Corp., 1977 "This' telephone' has too many shortcomings to be seriously considered as a means of communication. The more...

An elderly man was at home, dying in bed. He smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookies baking. He wanted one last cookie before he died.
He fell out of bed, crawled to the landing, rolled down the stairs, and crawled into the kitchen where his wife was busily baking cookies. With waning strength he crawled to the table and was just barely able to lift his withered arm to the cookie sheet.
As he grasped a warm, moist, chocolate chip cookie, his favorite kind, his wife suddenly whacked his hand with a spatula.
"Why?" he whispered. "Why did you do that?"
"They're for the funeral."