A guy walks into a bar and says to the bartender, "I want you to give me 12-year scotch, and don't try to fool me because I can tell the difference."
The bartender is skeptical and decides to try to trick the man with 5-year scotch.  The man takes a sip, scowls and says, "Bartender, this crap is 5-year scotch. I told you I want 12-year scotch."
The bartender tries once more with 8-year scotch.  The man takes a sip, grimaces and says, "Bartender, I don't want 8-year scotch like this filth. Give me 12-year scotch!"
Impressed, the bartender gets the 12-year scotch, the man takes a sip and sighs, "Ah, now that's the real thing."
A disgusting, grimy, stinking drunk has been watching all this with great interest.  He stumbles over and sets a glass down in front of the man and says, "Hey, I think that's really far out what you can do.  Try this one." The man takes a sip and immediately spits out the liquid and cries, "Yechhh! This stuff tastes like piss!"  The drunk's eyes light up and he says, "Yeah, now how old am I?"

There was a bartender who was convinced he was the strongest guy in town.  He had a standing bet.  He'd squeeze a lemon until all the juice ran into a glass, then pass the lemon to his customers and anyone who could squeeze even one more drop of juice would win $l,000.00 cash. Many lemon squeezers had tried to beat the bartender (weightlifters, longshoremen, etc.) but nobody ever could.
One day a scrawny little man came into the bar and said in a squeaky voice, "I'd like to try squeezing your lemon."  After the laughter died down, the bartender grabbed a lemon, squeezed it dry and handed the wrinkled rind to the little man.  The man clenched his fist around the lemon, squeezed - and six drops fell into the glass. As the crowd roared, the bartender asked the little man, "what do you do for a living?  Are you a lumberjack, a weightlifter, what?"
The man replied, "I work for the IRS."

A couple of drinkin' buddies, who are airplane mechanics, are in the hanger at JFK New York; it's fogged in and they have nothing to do.
One of them says to the other, "Man, have you got anything to drink?"
 The other one says, "Nah, but I hear you can drink jet fuel, that will kinda give you a buzz."  So they do drink it, get smashed and have a beautiful time; like only drinkin' buddies can do.
The following morning, one of them wakes up and he knows his head will explode if he gets up, but it doesn't.  He gets up and feels good, in fact, he feels great- NO hangover!
The phone rings, it's his buddy.  The buddy says, "Hey, how do you feel?" He said, "I feel great!!"  The buddy says, "I feel great too!!  You don't have a hangover?"  He says, "No- that jet fuel is great stuff - no hangover - we ought to do this more often." "Yeah, we could, but there's just one thing... " "What's that?" "Did you fart yet?" "No..." "Well, DON'T, 'cause I'm in Phoenix!"

Two married buddies are out drinking one night when one turns to the other and says, "You know, I don't know what else to do.  Whenever I go home after we've been out drinking, I turn the headlights off before I get to the driveway.  I shut off the engine and coast into the garage.  I take my shoes off before I go into the house, I sneak up the stairs, I get undressed in the bathroom.  I ease into bed and my wife STILL wakes up and yells at me for staying out so late!"
His buddy looks at him and says, "Well, you're obviously taking the wrong approach.  I screech into the driveway, slam the door, storm up the steps, throw my shoes into the closet, jump into bed, rub my hands on my wife's rump and say, 'How about a little?' and she pretends she's asleep.