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<blockquote data-quote="melody" data-source="post: 1063818070" data-attributes="member: 14320"><p><strong><span style="color: Teal">An Italian Merry Christmas</span></strong></p><p></p><p>I thought it would be a nice idea to bring a</p><p>date to my parents' house on Christmas Eve.</p><p>I thought it would be interesting for a non-Italian</p><p>girl to see how an Italian family spends the</p><p>holidays. I thought my mother and my date would</p><p>hit it off like partridges and pear trees.</p><p></p><p>So, I was wrong. Sue me.</p><p></p><p>I had only known Karen for three weeks when I</p><p>extended the invitation. I know these family</p><p>things can be a little weird," I told her, "but my</p><p>folks are great, and we always have a lot of fun on</p><p></p><p>Christmas Eve." "Sounds fine to me," Karen said.</p><p>I had only known my mother for 31 years when I</p><p>told her I'd be bringing Karen with me.</p><p></p><p>"She's a very nice girl and she's really looking</p><p>forward to meeting all of you."</p><p></p><p>"Sounds fine to me," my mother said.</p><p>And that was that. Two telephone calls. Two</p><p>"sounds-fine-to-me". What more could I want?</p><p>Christmas was set!</p><p></p><p>I should point out, I suppose, that in Italian</p><p>households, Christmas Eve is the social event of</p><p>the season - an Italian woman's raison d'etre.</p><p>She cleans. She cooks. She bakes. She orchestrates</p><p>every minute of the entire evening. Christmas Eve</p><p>is what Italian women live for.</p><p></p><p>I should also point out, I suppose, that when it</p><p>comes to the kind of women that make Italian men</p><p>go nuts, Karen is it. She doesn't clean. She doesn't</p><p>cook. She doesn't bake. And she has the largest</p><p>breasts I have ever seen on a human being.</p><p>I brought her anyway.</p><p></p><p>7p.m. - we arrive .</p><p>Karen and I walk in and putter around for half</p><p>an hour waiting for the other guests to show up.</p><p>During that half hour, my mother grills Karen</p><p>like a cheeseburger and cannily determines that</p><p>Karen does not clean, cook, or bake.</p><p></p><p>My father is equally observant. He pulls me</p><p>into the living room and notes, "She has the largest</p><p>breasts I have ever seen on a human being!"</p><p></p><p>7:30p.m. - Others arrive.</p><p>Uncle Antonio walks in with my Aunt Mafalde,</p><p>assorted kids, assorted gifts.! We sit around the</p><p>dining room table for antipasto, a symmetrically</p><p>composed platter of lettuce, roasted peppers, black</p><p>olives, salami, prosciutto, provolone, and anchovies.</p><p></p><p>When I offer to make Karen's plate she says, "Thank you.</p><p>But none of those things, okay?" She points to the anchovies.</p><p></p><p>"You don't like anchovies?" I ask.</p><p></p><p>"I don't like fish," Karen announces to one and all</p><p>as 67 other varieties of foods-that-swim are</p><p>baking, broiling and simmering in the next room.</p><p>My mother makes the sign of the cross. Things</p><p>are getting uncomfortable.</p><p></p><p>Aunt Sophia asks Karen what her family eats on</p><p>Christmas Eve. Karen says, "Knockwurst."</p><p></p><p>My father, who is still staring in a daze,</p><p>at Karen's chest, temporarily snaps out of it to</p><p>murmur, Knockers?" My mother kicks him so hard he</p><p>gets a blood clot. None of this is</p><p>turning out the way I'd hoped.</p><p></p><p>8:00p.m. - Second course.</p><p>The spaghetti and crab sauce is on the way to the</p><p>table. Karen declines the crab sauce and says she'll</p><p>make her own with butter and ketchup. My mother asks</p><p>me to join her in the kitchen. I take my</p><p>"Merry Christmas" napkin from my lap, place it on the</p><p>"Merry Christmas" tablecloth and walk into the kitchen.</p><p></p><p>"I don't want to start any trouble," my mother says</p><p>calmly, clutching a bottle of ketchup in her hands,</p><p>"But if she pours this on my pasta, I'm going to</p><p>throw acid in her face."</p><p></p><p>"Come on," I tell her. "It's Christmas. Let her eat what she wants."</p><p></p><p>My mother considers the situation,</p><p>then nods. As I turn to walk back into the dining</p><p>room, she grabs my shoulder. "Tell me the truth,"</p><p>she says,"are you serious with this tramp?"</p><p></p><p>"She's not a tramp," I reply. "And I've only known her for three weeks."</p><p></p><p>"Well, it's your life", she tells me, "but if you marry her, she'll poison you."</p><p></p><p>8:30p.m. - More fish.</p><p>My stomach is knotted like one of those macramé</p><p>plant hangers that are always three times larger</p><p>than the plants they hold.</p><p></p><p>All the women get up to clear away the spaghetti</p><p>dishes, except for Karen, who, instead, lights a cigarette.</p><p></p><p>"Why don't you give them a little hand?" I politely suggest.</p><p></p><p>Karen makes a face and walks into the kitchen carrying three forks.</p><p></p><p>"Dear, you don't have to do that," my mother tells her, smiling painfully.</p><p></p><p>"Oh, okay," Karen says, putting the forks on the sink.</p><p></p><p>As she reenters the dining room, a wine glass flies</p><p>over her head, and smashes against the wall. From</p><p>the kitchen, my mother says, "Whoops."</p><p></p><p>I vaguely remember that line from Torch Song Trilogy. "Whoops?"</p><p>No. "Whoops is when you fall down an elevator shaft."</p><p></p><p>More fish comes out. After some goading, Karen</p><p>tries a piece of scungilli, which she describes as "slimy, like worms."</p><p></p><p>My mother winces, bites her hand and pounds her chest like one of those old women you</p><p>always see in the sixth row of a funeral home.</p><p>Aunt Sophia does the same. Karen, believing that this is</p><p>something that all Italian women do on Christmas Eve,</p><p>bites her hand and pounds her chest also.</p><p></p><p>My Uncle Antonio doesn't know what to make of it. My father's</p><p>dentures fall out and he almost chews a six-inch gash in the</p><p>tablecloth with his fingernails.</p><p></p><p>10:00p.m. - Coffee, dessert.</p><p>Espresso all around. A little anisette. A curl of</p><p>lemon peel. When Karen asks for milk, my mother</p><p>finally slaps her in the face with a cannoli.</p><p>I guess it had to happen sooner or later.</p><p></p><p>Karen, believing that this is something that all</p><p>Italian women do on Christmas Eve, picks up a</p><p>cannoli and slaps my mother with it. </p><p></p><p>"This is fun," Karen says. Fun?</p><p>No. Fun is when you fall down an elevator shaft.</p><p></p><p>But, amazingly, everyone is laughing</p><p>and smiling and filled with good cheer - even my</p><p>mother, who grabs me by the shoulder, laughs and says,</p><p>"Get this bitch out of my house."</p><p></p><p>Sounds fine to me.</p><p>THE END</p><p></p><p>(If you aren't in stitches by now, you don't</p><p>know Italians!)</p><p></p><p><strong><span style="color: Teal">Season's Greetings Jokes</span></strong></p><p></p><p>Money's Short, Times are Hard</p><p>Here's your Fucking Christmas Card</p><p></p><p>Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house</p><p>everyone felt shitty, even the mouse</p><p></p><p>Mom at the whorehouse and dad smoking grass</p><p>I'd just settled down for a nice piece of ass</p><p></p><p>When out on the lawn I heard such a clatter</p><p>I sprung from my place to see what's the matter</p><p></p><p>Then out on the lawn I saw a big dick</p><p>I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick</p><p></p><p>He came down the chimney like a bat out of hell</p><p>I knew in a moment the old fucker fell</p><p></p><p>He filled all our stockings with pretzels and beer</p><p>And a big rubber dick for my brother the queer</p><p></p><p>He rose up the chimney with a thunderous fart</p><p>The son of a bitch blew the chimney apart</p><p></p><p>He swore and he cursed as he rode out of sight</p><p>Piss on you all and have a good night</p><p></p><p>- Have a nice Christmas, asshole</p><p></p><p></p><p>1. Hey Babe, when was the last time you did it in a sleigh?</p><p>2. Wanna see my 12-inch elf?</p><p>3. I`ve got something special in the sack for you!</p><p>4. Ever make it with a fat guy with a whip?</p><p>5. I know when you've been bad or good ... so let's skip the small talk, sister!</p><p>6. Some of my best toys run on batteries.</p><p>7. Interested in seeing the "North Pole"? (Well, that's what the Mrs. calls it)</p><p>8. I see you when you're sleeping ... and you don't wear any underwear, do you?</p><p>9. Screw the "nice" list -- I've got you on my "naughty" list!</p><p>10. Wanna join the "Mile High" club?<span style="color: Silver"></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"><span style="font-size: 9px">---------- Post added at 05:21 PM ---------- 6 hour anti-bump limit - Previous post was at 11:59 AM ----------</span></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span></p><p><span style="color: Silver"></span><strong><span style="color: Teal">X-rated Christmas Carols</span></strong></p><p></p><p>*I'm Dreaming of a Great Blow Job</p><p></p><p>*Little Hummer Boy</p><p></p><p>*A Lay In A Manger</p><p></p><p>*Let Her Blow, Let Her Blow, Let Her Blow</p><p></p><p>*The First Time With Noelle</p><p></p><p>*Oh, Cum All Ye Faithful</p><p></p><p>*I Came Upon A Midnight Queer</p><p></p><p>*Jingle Bell Fuck</p><p></p><p>*Here Cums Santa Claus</p><p></p><p>*Frostie The Frigid Bitch I Married</p><p></p><p>*I'm Creaming On A White Christmas</p><p></p><p>*That Lying, Cheating Bastard's Nuts Roasting on an Open Fire</p><p></p><p>*You Boff The Red-nosed Vain Queer</p><p></p><p>*Oh, Hole-y Night</p><p></p><p>*Santa Claus Is Cumming, You Clown</p><p></p><p>*Frosty the Blow Man</p><p></p><p>*Jiggle My Balls</p><p></p><p>*I Don't Fear You Have Aids</p><p></p><p>*The Twelve Steps to a Sober Christmas</p><p></p><p>*Oh, Watch Me Pee</p><p></p><p>*I Came All Over Her Rounded Buttocks</p><p></p><p>*I Saw Mommy Giving Santa Head</p><p></p><p>*Santa's Cock Is 12 Inches Long</p><p></p><p>*Jingle Bell Rock, Suck My Cock</p><p></p><p>*Do You See My Pee-Pee?</p><p></p><p>*We Three Queens and a Vaseline Jar</p><p></p><p>*Deck My Balls with Clamps and Leather</p><p></p><p>*Bark! The Hairy Anal Thing</p><p></p><p>*I Came Upon a Midget's Rear</p><p></p><p>*Pumpin' Away in a Manger</p><p></p><p>*Santa Claus is Coming All Over Town</p><p></p><p>*Deck My Balls with Brows of Holly</p><p></p><p>*O Cum, Gobby Facefuls</p><p></p><p>*I Came Upon Your Midriff, Dear</p><p></p><p>*Dick the Ho's with KY jelly</p><p></p><p><strong><span style="color: Red">========</span></strong></p><p></p><p>Woman: My ex was such a Scrooge at Christmas.</p><p>Friend: Some men are like that.</p><p>Woman: Yeah? The closest he ever got to giving me a gift was the time he put a bow on the head of his dick and said,</p><p>"Hey, Cunt! C'mere and suck this package!</p><p></p><p><strong><span style="color: Teal">Christmas Q&A Jokes</span></strong></p><p></p><p>Q. What did Santa say to the three blondes?</p><p>A. Ho! Ho! Ho!</p><p></p><p>Q. Why is Christmas just like a day at the office?</p><p>A. You do all the work and the fat guy in the suit gets all the credit.</p><p></p><p>Q. What do the female reindeer do when Santa takes the male reindeer out on Christmas Eve?</p><p>A. They go into town and blow a few bucks.</p><p></p><p>Q. What's the difference between snowmen and snowwomen?</p><p>A. Snowballs.</p><p></p><p>Q. Why did the snowman have a smile on his face?</p><p>A. Because the snowblower was coming down the block.</p><p></p><p>Q. Why is Santa Claus always so jolly?</p><p>A. Because he knows where all the naughty girls live!</p><p></p><p>Q. What do you call a truck load of vibrators heading South from the North Pole on Christmas Eve?</p><p>A. Toys for twats!</p><p></p><p>Q. Why are women's breasts like a train set a kid gets at Christmas time ?</p><p>A. Because they were originally made for children but the father wants to play with them.</p><p></p><p>Q. Why doesn't Santa have any children ?</p><p>A. Because he only comes once a year, and when he does, it's down the chimney.</p><p></p><p>Q. How are a Christmas tree and a priest alike ?</p><p>A. They both have ornamental balls.</p><p></p><p>Q. Why do people make snow men instead of snow women?</p><p>A. Because it takes too long to hollow out the head!</p><p></p><p></p><p>This woman walks into a tattoo shop and asks for a tattoo of a Christmas tree on her right inner thigh and a cocktail drink on her left inner thigh.</p><p></p><p>The tattoo artist says "That's an unusual request. Why do you want two tattoos there?" </p><p></p><p>She replies "Because my husband needs to eat between Christmas and New Years."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="melody, post: 1063818070, member: 14320"] [B][COLOR="Teal"]An Italian Merry Christmas[/COLOR][/B] I thought it would be a nice idea to bring a date to my parents' house on Christmas Eve. I thought it would be interesting for a non-Italian girl to see how an Italian family spends the holidays. I thought my mother and my date would hit it off like partridges and pear trees. So, I was wrong. Sue me. I had only known Karen for three weeks when I extended the invitation. I know these family things can be a little weird," I told her, "but my folks are great, and we always have a lot of fun on Christmas Eve." "Sounds fine to me," Karen said. I had only known my mother for 31 years when I told her I'd be bringing Karen with me. "She's a very nice girl and she's really looking forward to meeting all of you." "Sounds fine to me," my mother said. And that was that. Two telephone calls. Two "sounds-fine-to-me". What more could I want? Christmas was set! I should point out, I suppose, that in Italian households, Christmas Eve is the social event of the season - an Italian woman's raison d'etre. She cleans. She cooks. She bakes. She orchestrates every minute of the entire evening. Christmas Eve is what Italian women live for. I should also point out, I suppose, that when it comes to the kind of women that make Italian men go nuts, Karen is it. She doesn't clean. She doesn't cook. She doesn't bake. And she has the largest breasts I have ever seen on a human being. I brought her anyway. 7p.m. - we arrive . Karen and I walk in and putter around for half an hour waiting for the other guests to show up. During that half hour, my mother grills Karen like a cheeseburger and cannily determines that Karen does not clean, cook, or bake. My father is equally observant. He pulls me into the living room and notes, "She has the largest breasts I have ever seen on a human being!" 7:30p.m. - Others arrive. Uncle Antonio walks in with my Aunt Mafalde, assorted kids, assorted gifts.! We sit around the dining room table for antipasto, a symmetrically composed platter of lettuce, roasted peppers, black olives, salami, prosciutto, provolone, and anchovies. When I offer to make Karen's plate she says, "Thank you. But none of those things, okay?" She points to the anchovies. "You don't like anchovies?" I ask. "I don't like fish," Karen announces to one and all as 67 other varieties of foods-that-swim are baking, broiling and simmering in the next room. My mother makes the sign of the cross. Things are getting uncomfortable. Aunt Sophia asks Karen what her family eats on Christmas Eve. Karen says, "Knockwurst." My father, who is still staring in a daze, at Karen's chest, temporarily snaps out of it to murmur, Knockers?" My mother kicks him so hard he gets a blood clot. None of this is turning out the way I'd hoped. 8:00p.m. - Second course. The spaghetti and crab sauce is on the way to the table. Karen declines the crab sauce and says she'll make her own with butter and ketchup. My mother asks me to join her in the kitchen. I take my "Merry Christmas" napkin from my lap, place it on the "Merry Christmas" tablecloth and walk into the kitchen. "I don't want to start any trouble," my mother says calmly, clutching a bottle of ketchup in her hands, "But if she pours this on my pasta, I'm going to throw acid in her face." "Come on," I tell her. "It's Christmas. Let her eat what she wants." My mother considers the situation, then nods. As I turn to walk back into the dining room, she grabs my shoulder. "Tell me the truth," she says,"are you serious with this tramp?" "She's not a tramp," I reply. "And I've only known her for three weeks." "Well, it's your life", she tells me, "but if you marry her, she'll poison you." 8:30p.m. - More fish. My stomach is knotted like one of those macramé plant hangers that are always three times larger than the plants they hold. All the women get up to clear away the spaghetti dishes, except for Karen, who, instead, lights a cigarette. "Why don't you give them a little hand?" I politely suggest. Karen makes a face and walks into the kitchen carrying three forks. "Dear, you don't have to do that," my mother tells her, smiling painfully. "Oh, okay," Karen says, putting the forks on the sink. As she reenters the dining room, a wine glass flies over her head, and smashes against the wall. From the kitchen, my mother says, "Whoops." I vaguely remember that line from Torch Song Trilogy. "Whoops?" No. "Whoops is when you fall down an elevator shaft." More fish comes out. After some goading, Karen tries a piece of scungilli, which she describes as "slimy, like worms." My mother winces, bites her hand and pounds her chest like one of those old women you always see in the sixth row of a funeral home. Aunt Sophia does the same. Karen, believing that this is something that all Italian women do on Christmas Eve, bites her hand and pounds her chest also. My Uncle Antonio doesn't know what to make of it. My father's dentures fall out and he almost chews a six-inch gash in the tablecloth with his fingernails. 10:00p.m. - Coffee, dessert. Espresso all around. A little anisette. A curl of lemon peel. When Karen asks for milk, my mother finally slaps her in the face with a cannoli. I guess it had to happen sooner or later. Karen, believing that this is something that all Italian women do on Christmas Eve, picks up a cannoli and slaps my mother with it. "This is fun," Karen says. Fun? No. Fun is when you fall down an elevator shaft. But, amazingly, everyone is laughing and smiling and filled with good cheer - even my mother, who grabs me by the shoulder, laughs and says, "Get this bitch out of my house." Sounds fine to me. THE END (If you aren't in stitches by now, you don't know Italians!) [B][COLOR="Teal"]Season's Greetings Jokes[/COLOR][/B] Money's Short, Times are Hard Here's your Fucking Christmas Card Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house everyone felt shitty, even the mouse Mom at the whorehouse and dad smoking grass I'd just settled down for a nice piece of ass When out on the lawn I heard such a clatter I sprung from my place to see what's the matter Then out on the lawn I saw a big dick I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick He came down the chimney like a bat out of hell I knew in a moment the old fucker fell He filled all our stockings with pretzels and beer And a big rubber dick for my brother the queer He rose up the chimney with a thunderous fart The son of a bitch blew the chimney apart He swore and he cursed as he rode out of sight Piss on you all and have a good night - Have a nice Christmas, asshole 1. Hey Babe, when was the last time you did it in a sleigh? 2. Wanna see my 12-inch elf? 3. I`ve got something special in the sack for you! 4. Ever make it with a fat guy with a whip? 5. I know when you've been bad or good ... so let's skip the small talk, sister! 6. Some of my best toys run on batteries. 7. Interested in seeing the "North Pole"? (Well, that's what the Mrs. calls it) 8. I see you when you're sleeping ... and you don't wear any underwear, do you? 9. Screw the "nice" list -- I've got you on my "naughty" list! 10. Wanna join the "Mile High" club?[COLOR="Silver"] [SIZE=1]---------- Post added at 05:21 PM ---------- 6 hour anti-bump limit - Previous post was at 11:59 AM ----------[/SIZE] [/COLOR][B][COLOR="Teal"]X-rated Christmas Carols[/COLOR][/B] *I'm Dreaming of a Great Blow Job *Little Hummer Boy *A Lay In A Manger *Let Her Blow, Let Her Blow, Let Her Blow *The First Time With Noelle *Oh, Cum All Ye Faithful *I Came Upon A Midnight Queer *Jingle Bell Fuck *Here Cums Santa Claus *Frostie The Frigid Bitch I Married *I'm Creaming On A White Christmas *That Lying, Cheating Bastard's Nuts Roasting on an Open Fire *You Boff The Red-nosed Vain Queer *Oh, Hole-y Night *Santa Claus Is Cumming, You Clown *Frosty the Blow Man *Jiggle My Balls *I Don't Fear You Have Aids *The Twelve Steps to a Sober Christmas *Oh, Watch Me Pee *I Came All Over Her Rounded Buttocks *I Saw Mommy Giving Santa Head *Santa's Cock Is 12 Inches Long *Jingle Bell Rock, Suck My Cock *Do You See My Pee-Pee? *We Three Queens and a Vaseline Jar *Deck My Balls with Clamps and Leather *Bark! The Hairy Anal Thing *I Came Upon a Midget's Rear *Pumpin' Away in a Manger *Santa Claus is Coming All Over Town *Deck My Balls with Brows of Holly *O Cum, Gobby Facefuls *I Came Upon Your Midriff, Dear *Dick the Ho's with KY jelly [B][COLOR="Red"]========[/COLOR][/B] Woman: My ex was such a Scrooge at Christmas. Friend: Some men are like that. Woman: Yeah? The closest he ever got to giving me a gift was the time he put a bow on the head of his dick and said, "Hey, Cunt! C'mere and suck this package! [B][COLOR="Teal"]Christmas Q&A Jokes[/COLOR][/B] Q. What did Santa say to the three blondes? A. Ho! Ho! Ho! Q. Why is Christmas just like a day at the office? A. You do all the work and the fat guy in the suit gets all the credit. Q. What do the female reindeer do when Santa takes the male reindeer out on Christmas Eve? A. They go into town and blow a few bucks. Q. What's the difference between snowmen and snowwomen? A. Snowballs. Q. Why did the snowman have a smile on his face? A. Because the snowblower was coming down the block. Q. Why is Santa Claus always so jolly? A. Because he knows where all the naughty girls live! Q. What do you call a truck load of vibrators heading South from the North Pole on Christmas Eve? A. Toys for twats! Q. Why are women's breasts like a train set a kid gets at Christmas time ? A. Because they were originally made for children but the father wants to play with them. Q. Why doesn't Santa have any children ? A. Because he only comes once a year, and when he does, it's down the chimney. Q. How are a Christmas tree and a priest alike ? A. They both have ornamental balls. Q. Why do people make snow men instead of snow women? A. Because it takes too long to hollow out the head! This woman walks into a tattoo shop and asks for a tattoo of a Christmas tree on her right inner thigh and a cocktail drink on her left inner thigh. The tattoo artist says "That's an unusual request. Why do you want two tattoos there?" She replies "Because my husband needs to eat between Christmas and New Years." [/QUOTE]
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