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The blonde thought for a moment and, for no discernible reason, said, "352." This being the correct number, the shepherd was, understandably, totally amazed, and exclaimed, "You're right! OK, I'll keep to my end of the deal. Take your pick of my flock." The blonde carefully considered the entire flock and finally picked the one that was by far cuter and more playful than any of the others. When she was done, the shepherd turned to her and said, "OK, now I have a proposition for you. If I can guess your true hair colour, can I have my dog back?"

Мужик сидит в заведении и выпивает. Выпил порядочно, чувствует - пора домой. Встает на ноги - бац на пол! Встает снова - снова бац на пол! Ноги не держат. Думает: кароче, типа, а-а-аднака, я перебрал. ИК! Ладно, щас выползу на улицу, подышу св. воздухом, авось смогу встать. Выползает, подышал, встает - опять бац! Ну и напился, блин - думает. Ок, доползу до подъезда, тут недалеко, напрягу все силы и встану. Дополз, напрягает силы, встает - и снова кувырк на пол. Ладно, доеду на лифте до квартиры и перед дверью точно встану! Доехал кое-как до своей двери, встает и опять падает, ноги совсем отказали. Ну, может, хоть жены дома нет? Вползает в квартиру, жены нет. Ура! Забирается на кровать и засыпает.
Утром жена трясет за шкирку: опять напился, алкоголик несчастный! Муж: да не, ты че, и в рот не брал. Да, пил, пил, негодяй, уж я знаю! - вопит жена. Ладно, говорит, сознаюсь, пил, но как ты узнала? Жена ему: да ты ж, твою растак и перетак, опять инвалидное кресло в баре забыл!!

Paddy had been drinking at his local Dublin pub all day and most of the
night celebrating Ireland's draw with Germany. Mick, the bartender says,
"You'll not be drinking anymore tonight, Paddy"
Paddy replies "OK Mick, I'll be on my way then."
Paddy spins around on his stool and steps off. He falls flat on his face.
"Shoite" he says and pulls himself up by the stool and dusts himself off.
He takes a step towards the door and falls flat on his face. "Shoite,
Shoite!"
He looks to the doorway and thinks to himself that if he can just
get to the door and some fresh air he'll be fine.
He belly crawls to the door and shimmies up to the door frame.
He sticks his head outside and takes a deep breath of fresh air, feels much
better and takes a step out onto the sidewalk. He falls flat on his face.
"Bi'Jesus... I'm fockin' focked," he says. He can see his house just a
few doors down, and crawls to the door and shimmies up the door frame,
opens the door and shimmies inside. He takes a look up the stairs and says
"No fockin' way".
He crawls up the stairs to his bedroom door and says "I can make it to
the bed." He takes a step into the room and falls flat on his face.
He says "Fock it" and falls into bed.
The next morning, his wife, Jess, comes into the room carrying a
cup of coffee and says, "Get up Paddy. Did you have a bit to drink last
night?"
Paddy says, "I did Jess. I was fockin' p*ssed. But how'd ya know?"
"Mick called. You left your wheelchair at the pub."

Да, и сорри за ненормативную лексику...