seat belt

An off-duty police officer, familiar with radar guns, drove through a school zone within the legal speed limit, when the flash of a camera went off, taking a picture of his license plate.

The officer, thinking the radar was in error, drove by again–even more slowly. Another flash! He did it again for a third time, at an even slower speed. Same result.

“This guy must have screwed up the settings,” the off-duty officer thought. He planned to mention the problem to his supervisor when he got to work, but forgot.

A few weeks later, he received the violations in the mail and discovered he had three traffic tickets: each for not wearing a seat belt!!!

A man who is driving a car is stopped by a police officer. The following exchange takes place . . . The man says, “What’s the problem, Officer?”

Officer: “You were going at least 75 in a 55-zone.”

Man: “No Sir, I was going 65.”

Wife: “Oh, Harry, you were going 80.” (The man gives his wife a dirty look.)

Officer: “I’m also going to give you a ticket for your broken tail light.”

Man: “Broken tail light? I didn’t know about a broken tail light!”

Wife: “Oh, Harry, you’ve known about that tail light for weeks.”
(The man gives his wife another dirty look.)

Officer: “I’m also going to give you a citation for not wearing your seatbelt.”

Man: “Oh, I just took it off when you were walking up to the car.”

Wife: “Oh, Harry, you never wear your seatbelt.”

The man turns to his wife and yells, “SHUT YOUR MOUTH!”

The Officer turns to the woman and asks, “Ma’am, does your husband talk to you this way all the time?”

The wife says, “No, only when he’s been drinking!!!”

One day this man was driving and the police pulled him over. The police said, “Since you were wearing your seltbelt, you win $5000, what are you going to do with the money?”

The man said, “I’m going to get me a driver’s license.”

The lady next to him said, “Don’t listen to him officer, he always talks crazy when he’s drunk!”

The loud talking woke the guy in the backseat up. When he saw the police he said, “I knew we wouldn’t get far with this stolen car!”

Then the police heard a voice from the trunk and in Spanish, the voice said, “Are we over the border yet??”

How to Identify Where a Driver is From

One hand on wheel, one hand on horn: Chicago.

One hand on wheel, one finger out window: New York.

One hand on wheel, one finger and head out the window — cursing, cutting across all lanes of traffic: Philly

One hand on wheel, one hand on newspaper, foot solidly on accelerator: Boston.

One hand on wheel, one hand on nonfat double decaf cappuccino, cradling cell phone, brick on accelerator, with gun in lap: L.A.

Both hands on wheel, eyes shut, both feet on brake, quivering in terror: Ohio, but driving in California.

Both hands in air, gesturing, both feet on accelerator, head turned to talk to someone in backseat: Italy.

One hand on latte, one knee on wheel, cradling cell phone, foot on brake, mind on game: Seattle.

One hand on wheel, one hand on hunting rifle, alternating between both feet being on the accelerator and both feet on the brake, throwing a McDonald’s bag out the window: Texas.

Four-wheel-drive pick-up truck, shotgun mounted in rear window, beer cans on floor, squirrel tails attached to antenna: West Virginia.

Two hands gripping wheel, blue hair barely visible above window level, driving 35 on the Interstate in the left lane with the left blinker on: Florida.

One hand on the wheel, the other holding a cell phone, driving 130 mph and four feet from your bumper, late for happy hour, while flashing headlights to tell you to get the hell out of the way: Washington, D.C., Beltway

I’m glad I’m a woman, yes I am, yes I am.
I don’t live off of Budweiser, Beer Nuts and Spam.
I don’t brag to my buddies about my erections.
I won’t drive to Hell before I ask for directions.
I don’t get wasted at parties, and act like a clown.
And I know how to put that damned toilet seat down!
I won’t grab your hooters,
I won’t pinch your butt.
My belt buckle’s not hidden beneath my beer gut.
And I don’t go around “re-adjusting” my crotch,
or yell like Tarzan when my headboard gets a notch.
I don’t belch in public,
I don’t scratch my behind.
I’m a woman you see-
I’m just not that kind!
I’m glad I’m a woman,
I’m so glad I could sing.
I don’t have body hair like shag carpeting.
It doesn’t grow from my ears or cover my back.
When I lean over you can’t see 3 inches of crack.
And what’s on my head doesn’t leave with my comb.
I’ll never buy a toupee to cover my dome.
Or have a few hairs pulled from over the side.
I’m a woman, you know-I’ve got far too much pride!
And I honestly think its a privilege for me,
to have these two boobs and squat when I pee.
I don’t live to play golf and shoot basketball.
I don’t swagger and spit like a Neanderthal.
I won’t tell you my wife just does not understand,
or stick my hand in my pocket to hide that gold band.
Or tell you a story to make you sigh and weep,
then screw you, roll over and fall sound asleep!
Yes, I’m so very glad I’m a woman, you see.
Forget all about that old penis envy.
I don’t long for male bonding,
I don’t cruise for chicks.
Join the Hair Club For Men,
or think with my dick.
I’m a woman by chance and I’m thankful, it’s true.
I’m so glad I’m a woman and not a man like you!