"I like my women like I like my coffee, in a cup." -Paul Alangadan

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what did the blonde mail to her boyfriend? nothing, blonde's can't write.

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Woman's rights

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Women's rights.

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What did the squirrel say to the other squirrel? Squirrels can't talk.

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There was this women at a banana festival, but she didn't like bananas. So she split

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They decide to exchange heads. Barbie squeezes the small opening under her chin over Ken's bulging neck socket. His wide jaw line jostles atop his girlfriend's body, loosely, like one of those novelty dogs destined to gaze from the back windows of cars. The two dolls chase each other around the orange Country Camper unsure what they'll do when they're within touching distance. Ken wants to feel Barbie's toes between his lips, take off one of her legs and force his whole arm inside her. With only the vaguest suggestion of genitals, all the alluring qualities they possess as fashion dolls, up until now, have done neither of them much good. But suddenly Barbie is excited looking at her own body under the weight of Ken's face. He is part circus freak, part thwarted hermaphrodite. And she is imagining she is somebody else—maybe somebody middle class and ordinary, maybe another teenage model being caught in a scandal. The night had begun with Barbie getting angry at finding Ken's blow up doll, folded and stuffed under the couch. He was defensive and ashamed, especially about not having the breath to inflate her. But after a round of pretend-tears, Barbie and Ken vowed to try to make their relationship work. With their good memories as sustaining as good food, they listened to late-night radio talk shows, one featuring Doctor Ruth. When all else fails, just hold each other, the small sex therapist crooned. Barbie and Ken, on cue, groped in the dark, their interchangeable skin glowing, the color of Band-Aids. Then, they let themselves go— Soon Barbie was begging Ken to try on her spandex miniskirt. She showed him how to pivot as though he was on a runway. Ken begged to tie Barbie onto his yellow surfboard and spin her on the kitchen table until she grew dizzy. Anything, anything, they both said to the other's requests, their mirrored desires bubbling from the most unlikely places.

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if quizzes are quizzical, arent tests testical?

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Whats green, has 4 legs and falls out a tree? A pool table

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whats red and looks like a bucket? a red bucket whats blue and looks like a bucket? a red bucket in disguise

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knock. knock. whos there? BOWLING SHOE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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how many Mexicans does it take to fix a light bulb? One, a Mexican can fix any thing.

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Roses are red Violets are blue I have Alzheimer's I have Alzheimer's

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Roses are red, violets are blue, Flappy Bird is no where near as annoying as you!

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I'm gay. No homo.

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There are two muffins in an oven. One says nothing. Muffins can't talk.

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Whats white, black, and red all over? A penguin on fire

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Give me thumbs up!

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What did the dad do immediately do after his child died? Cleaned off the knife.

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Why did Dolley Madison take the painting of George Washington out of the White House in 1814. It was on fire. By, Luke Atkins

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What's worse than a bee sting? Getting shot in the head

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What's the difference between me and convicted pedophile? -The pedophile's been caught ;)

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YEAH WELL SMELL YOUR BREATH U BELLEND

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What's red and hurts your teeth? A brick.

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Anti Joke

What are Antijokes? Anti Jokes (or Anti Humor) is a type of comedy in which the uses is set up to expect a typical joke setup however the joke ends with such anticlimax that it becomes funny in its own right. The lack of punchline is the punchline.

Our Updated iOS App!

We've just released huge update to the iOS app! Now, access all your favorite text and photo sites like Anti-Joke, DIYLOL! A few things didn't make the original cut (like comments) but they'll be back soon. Best of all, the app is now FREE! Get it here.

The Anti Joke Book


NEW ANTI-JOKE BOOK!  Now that we've resolved the printing issues with our publisher, check out the BRAND SPANKING NEW Anti-Joke Book!

MOAR??

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