Ya, und I unterstant how dat iss in Minesooooooooota.
Ole's neighbor Sven had a boy, Lars, who comes home one day and asks, "Papa, I have da biggest feet in da third grade. Is dat becoss I'm Norvegian?" "No," says Sven, "Dat's because you're NINETEEN."
Svenson asks Ole, "Do ya know da difference between a Norvegian and a canoe?" "No, I don't," says Ole. "A canoe will sometimes tip," Svenson says.
Ole wore both of his winter jackets when he painted his house last July. The directions on the can said "put on two coats."
Lars: "Ole, stant in front of my car and tell me if da turn signals are vorking".
Ole: "Yes, No, Yes, No, Yes, No, Yes, No...."
Ole and Lena got married. On their honeymoon trip they were coming into Minneapolis when Ole put his hand on Lena's knee. Giggling, Lena said, "Ole, you can go a little farther now if ya vant to," so Ole drove to Duluth.
Ole and Sven grabbed their poles and headed out to do some ice fishing. As they were augering a hole in the ice they heard a loud voice from above say, "There are no fish under the ice." Ole and Sven moved about 25 feet over and started to make another hole. The voice says louder, "There are no fish under the ice." They both looked around and then looked up. Ole said in a humble voice, "Are you God?" The voice booms, "No, you idiots! I'm the skating rink manager."
Ole died. So Lena went to the local paper to put a notice in the obituaries. The gentleman at the counter, after offering his condolences, asked Lena what she would like to say about Ole
Lena replied, "You yust put 'Ole died'."
The gentleman, somewhat perplexed, said, "That's it? Just 'Ole died?' Surely, there must be something more you'd like to say about Ole. If its money you're concerned about, the first five words are free. We must say something more."
So Lena pondered for a few minutes and finally said, "O.K. You put 'Ole died. Boat for sale.' "
Hey, wait one hot second! I had no idea you knew Uncle Ole and Aunti Lena! You did know, didn't you we, all in my family tree, came from some guy lots of hundred years ago who wed a Laplander, or Lapdancer or something like that.
Then the rotten enemies (We always had some enemies for one reason or another...) tried to poison my anchesters by tossing all the fresh winter cod into the snow and it all dried up. But my anchesters ate it anyway. Then the nogoodnics tried to poison it by soaking it in lye, but my anchesters were just too smart for that and ate it anyway. We guys are tough, even called it lutefisk. Yum, yum. Wash that down with a swig of cod liver oil and oopsy daisy, you are good to go.
That is the piece of cod that passeth understanding.
You bet.
ROFLMAO!!!!! :>