Blonde Jokes
Q: What did the blonde say when she saw the banana peel on the floor?
A: Oh no, I'm going to fall again!
Q: What goes Vrooom...screetch! Vrooom...screetch! Vrooom...screetch!
A: A blonde at a flashing red light.
Q: What do you call a blonde talking between two brunettes?
A: Confused.
Q: How do you confuse a blonde?
A: Tell her to count the stairs on a escalator.
Q: Why is it so hard to replace Vanna White?
A: They can't find another blonde who knows the whole alphabet.
Q: What is the worst thing about sex with a blonde?
A: Bucket seats.
Q: How can you tell a blonde's been in your fridge?
A: There's lipstick on the cucumber.
Q: What do you call a blonde with half a brain?
A: Gifted
Q: What's a blonde's idea of safe sex?
A: Locking the car door.
Q: What do you call an intelligent blonde?
A: A Golden Retriever.
A blonde is out for a walk. She comes to a river and sees another blonde on the opposite bank.
"Yoo-hoo!" she shouts. "How can I get to the other side?"
The other blonde looks up the river, then down the river, and shouts back, "You are on the other side."
A blonde walks into a library and shouts, "I'LL HAVE A HAMBURGER, A COKE, AND SOME FRIES."
The librarian says, "This is a library."
The blonde says, "Yes I know. I'LL HAVE A HAMBURGER, A COKE, AND SOME FRIES."
And the librarian says more angrily, "But this is a library, miss!"
The blonde blushes and says, "Oh, right." She then leans in close to the librarian and whispers, "I'll have a hamburger, a coke, and some fries."
A young blonde visits her doctor complaining of pain. "You have to help me, doc—I hurt all over!" she says.
"What do you mean, all over?" asks the doctor. "Can you be a little more specific?"
The blonde touches her right knee with her index finger and yells, "Ouch, that hurts!" Then she touches her left arm and yells, "Ouch, that hurts, too!" Then she touches her nose and exclaims, "Ouch, even that hurts!"
The doctor checks her over for a moment and says, "Ah, I think I see the problem. You have a broken finger."
A blonde comes home from school one afternoon and says, "Mommy, mommy, I was in math class today, and all the other kids said I couldn't count to 10, but I did it! Is that because I'm blonde?"
"Yes, dear. And good for you for showing them you could do it," her mother replies.
"Well, then I was in English class today, and they said I couldn't read, but I read a whole chapter of our book out loud to them! Is that because I'm blonde?"
"Yes, dear. And good for you for showing them you could do it."
"Well, then we were in gym class, and when we were in the shower, I noticed all the other girls had flat chests, but I have really big boobs! Is that because I'm blonde?"
"No, dear," her mother replies. "That's because you're 24."
A young ventriloquist is doing his show in a small club. He starts going through his dumb blonde routine with the dummy when a blonde woman in the front row stands up and shouts, "I've heard enough of your stupid blonde jokes! What makes you think you can stereotype women that way? What does the color of a person's hair have to do with her worth as a human being? It's guys like you who keep women like me from being respected at work and in the community and from reaching our full potential as a person. Because you and your kind continue to perpetuate discrimination against not only blondes, but women in general, and all so you can get a cheap laugh!"
The embarrassed ventriloquist begins to apologize, but the blonde yells, "You stay out of this, mister! I'm talking to that little prick sitting on your lap!"
A blonde goes to the psychiatrist because she's having very strange, vivid dreams. Upon hearing her description of the dreams, the psychiatrist jots a few notes, smiles, and says, "You've nothing to worry about; this is perfectly natural. Your dreams reveal a preoccupation with phallic symbols."
"With what?"
"Phallic symbols," says the psychiatrist. "Objects in your dreams that represent or resemble the phallus."
"The what?"
"The phallus," the psychiatrist replies. "You know—like a male. A phallus."
"A what?"
Frustrated, the psychiatrist unzips and pulls out his member. "A phallus! This is a phallus!"
A look of relief washes over the blonde's face. "Oh, I see! It's like a prick, only smaller."