At a science fiction convention, I met a young lady who didn’t believe in western medicine. She said that western medicine only treats symptoms, not causes. I pointed out that western medicine, and only western medicine, has come up with vaccines that prevent people from contracting smallpox, polio, measles, mumps, rubella… She gave me a confused look and said, “But nobody gets those diseases anymore.”
Back around 1991 I was planning on picking someone up for lunch at the apartment complex she managed. I don’t know why I asked her if her building was on the north or south side of the street, since in Los Angeles that’s indicated by whether the street address is odd or even; I was probably just making phone conversation. At any rate, her reponse was, “It depends on which way you’re coming from.”
Subject: Nigerian Astronaut Wants To Come Home
Dr. Bakare Tunde
Astronautics Project Manager
National Space Research and Development Agency (NASRDA)
Plot 555
Misau Street
PMB 437
Garki, Abuja, FCT NIGERIA
Dear Mr. Sir,
REQUEST FOR ASSISTANCE-STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL
I am Dr. Bakare Tunde, the cousin of Nigerian Astronaut, Air Force Major Abacha Tunde. He was the first African in space when he made a secret flight to the Salyut 6 space station in 1979. He was on a later Soviet spaceflight, Soyuz T-16Z to the secret Soviet military space station Salyut 8T in 1989. He was stranded there in 1990 when the Soviet Union was dissolved. His other Soviet crew members returned to earth on the Soyuz T-16Z, but his place was taken up by return cargo. There have been occasional Progrez supply flights to keep him going since that time. He is in good humor, but wants to come home.
In the 14-years since he has been on the station, he has accumulated flight pay and interest amounting to almost $ 15,000,000 American Dollars. This is held in a trust at the Lagos National Savings and Trust Association. If we can obtain access to this money, we can place a down payment with the Russian Space Authorities for a Soyuz return flight to bring him back to Earth. I am told this will cost $ 3,000,000 American Dollars. In order to access the his trust fund we need your assistance.
Consequently, my colleagues and I are willing to transfer the total amount to your account or subsequent disbursement, since we as civil servants are prohibited by the Code of Conduct Bureau (Civil Service Laws) from opening and/ or operating foreign accounts in our names.
Needless to say, the trust reposed on you at this juncture is enormous. In return, we have agreed to offer you 20 percent of the transferred sum, while 10 percent shall be set aside for incidental expenses (internal and external) between the parties in the course of the transaction. You will be mandated to remit the balance 70 percent to other accounts in due course.
Kindly expedite action as we are behind schedule to enable us include downpayment in this financial quarter.
Please acknowledge the receipt of this message via my direct number 234 (0) 9-234-2220 only.
Yours Sincerely, Dr. Bakare Tunde
Astronautics Project Manager
tip@nasrda.gov.ng
http://www.nasrda.gov.ng/
The new supermarket near my apartment has an automatic water mister to keep the produce fresh. Just before it goes on, you hear the sound of distant thunder and the smell of fresh rain.When you approach the milk cases, you hear cows mooing and witness the scent of fresh hay.
When you approach the egg case, you hear hens cluck and cackle and the air is filled with the pleasing aroma of bacon and eggs frying.
The veggie department features the smell of fresh buttered corn.
I don’t buy toilet paper there any more.
Q: What’s on pages 4-5 of the Yugo user’s manual?
A: The train & bus schedules.
Q: What is the sport-version of Yugo?
A: The driver wears Nike shoes.
Q: What do you call a Yugo at the top of a hill?
A: A miracle.
Q: What do you call two Yugos at the top of a hill?
A: A mirage.
Q: What do you call a Yugo with dual exhausts?
A: A wheelbarrow.
Q: How do you double the value of a Yugo?
A: Half fill it with gasoline.
Q: What to you call a Yugo with brakes?
A: Customized.
Q: What do you have to do if your Yugo gets in the way of a swarm of killer bees?
A: Stop pushing and take refuge in the car.
Q: What do you call a Yugo with a flat tire? A: A write off.
Customer: “Can I have a windshield wiper for a Yugo please?”
Parts man: “Yeah, that seems like a fair swap.”
We are sick and tired of hearing about how dumb people in The South are. We challenge any so-called smart Yankee to take this exam administered by the University of Kentucky Engineering Department:1. Calculate the smallest limb diameter on a persimmon tree that will support a 10-pound possum.
2. Which of these cars will rust out the quickest when placed on blocks in your front yard? A ‘65 Ford Fairlane, a ‘69 Chevrolet, a ‘67 Chevelle, or a ‘64 Pontiac GTO.
3. If your uncle builds a still that operates at a capacity of 20 gallons of shine produced per hour, how many car radiators are required to condense the product?
4. A woodcutter has a chainsaw that operates at 2700 RPM. The density of the pine trees in the plot to be harvested is 470 per acre. The plot is 2.3 acres in size. The average tree diameter is 14 inches. How many Budweisers will be drunk before the trees are cut down?
5. If every old refrigerator in the state vented a charge of R-12 simultaneously, what would be the percentage decrease in the ozone layer?
6. A front porch is constructed of 2×8 pine on 24-inch centers with a field rock foundation. The span is 8 feet and the porch length is 16 feet. The porch floor is 1-inch rough sawn pine. When the porch collapses, how many hound dogs will be killed?
7. A man owns a Tennessee house and 3.7 acres of land in a hollow with an average slope of 15%. The man has five children. Can each of his grown children put a mobile home on the man’s land and still have enough property for their electric appliances to sit out front?
8. A 2-ton truck is overloaded and proceeding 900 yards down a steep slope on a secondary road at 45 MPH. The brakes fail. Given average traffic conditions on secondary roads, what is the probability that it will strike a vehicle with a muffler?
9. A coal mine operates in a NFPA Class 1, Division 2 Hazardous Area. The mine employs 120 miners per shift. A gas warning is issued at the beginning of the 3rd shift. How many cartons of unfiltered Camels will be smoked during the shift?
10. At a reduction in the gene pool variability rate of 7.5% per generation, how long will it take a town that has been bypassed by the Interstate to breed a country-western singer?
On the first day, God created the cow. God said, “You must go to the field with the farmer all day long and suffer under the sun, have calves and give milk to support the farmer. I will give you a lifespan of 60 years.” The cow said, “That’s kind of a tough life you want me to live for 60 years. Let me have 20 and I’ll give back the other 40.”And God agreed.
On the second day, God created the monkey. God said, “Entertain people, do monkey tricks, make them laugh I’ll give you a 20-year lifespan.” The monkey said, “How boring, monkey tricks for 20 years? I don’t think so. Give me 10 years and I’ll give you back the other 10.”
God agreed again.
On the third day, God created the dog. God said, “Sit all day by the door of your house and bark at anyone who comes in or walks past. I will give you a lifespan of 20 years.” The dog said, “That’s too long to be barking. The monkey gave you back 10, so that’s what I’ll do too, okay?”
God sighed – and agreed.
On the fourth day, God created man. God said, “Eat, sleep, play, have sex, enjoy. Do nothing, just enjoy. I’ll give you 20 years.” Man said, “That sounds great – but only 20 years? No way, man. Tell you what, I’ll take the 20, and the 40 the cow gave back, and the 10 the monkey gave back and the 10 the dog gave back – that makes 80, okay?”
“Oh, all right,” said God, “you’ve got a deal.”
And this is why the first 20 years we eat, sleep, play, have sex, enjoy, and do nothing; for the next 40 years we slave in the sun to support our family; for the next 10 years we do monkey tricks to entertain the grandchildren; and for the last 10 years we just sit on the porch and bark at everyone.
It’s the summer of 1960 and Harold goes to pick up his date, Jerry Sue.Harold’s a pretty hip guy with his own car and a ducktail hairdo.
When he goes to the front door, Jerry Sue’s father answers and invites him in.
“Jerry Sue’s not ready yet, so why don’t you have a seat?” he says.
He asks Harold what they are planning to do.
Harold replies politely that they will probably just go to the malt shop or to a drive-in-movie. Jerry Sue’s father responds, “Why don’t you kids go out and screw? I hear all the kids are doing it.”
Naturally this comes as quite a surprise to Harold and he says, “Whaaaat?”
“Yeah,” says Jerry Sue’s father, “We know Jerry Sue really likes to screw; why, she’d screw all night if we let her.”
Harold’s eyes light up and he smiles from ear to ear. Immediately, he has revised the plans for the evening. A few minutes later, Jerry Sue comes downstairs and announces that she’s ready to go.
Almost breathless with anticipation, Harold escorts his date out the front door as her dad says, “Have a good evening kids,” and gives the boy a small wink.
About 20 minutes later, a thoroughly disheveled Jerry Sue rushes back into the house, slams the door behind her and screams at her father, “Dammit, Daddy! The twist! It’s called the TWIST!”
Two guys are sitting at the bar.One says, “Did your hear the news? Mike’s dead.”
“Whoa! What happened to him?”
“Well, he’s on his way over to my place the other day and when he arrives outside the house he doesn’t brake properly and BOOM – he hits the curb and the car flips up and he crashes through the sunroof. He goes flying through the air and smashes through my upstairs bedroom window.”
“What a horrible way to die!”
“No, no, he survives that; that doesn’t kill him at all. He lands in my upstairs bedroom and he’s all covered in broken glass on the floor. Then, he spots the big old antique wardrobe we have in the room and reaches up for the handle to try to pull himself up. He’s just dragging himself up when BANG – this massive wardrobe comes crashing down on top of him, crushing him and breaking most of his bones.”
“What a way to go! That’s terrible.”
“No, no, that doesn’t kill him; he survives that. He manages to get the wardrobe off him and crawls out onto the landing. He tries to pull himself up on the banister but under his weight, the banister breaks and he goes falling down on to the first floor. In mid air, all the broken banister poles spin and fall on him, pinning him to the floor, sticking right through him.”
“Now, *that* is a most unfortunate way to go!”
“No, no, that doesn’t kill him; he even survives that; he pulls himself loose. So now he’s on the downstairs landing, just beside the kitchen. He crawls in to the kitchen, tries to pull himself up on the cooker, but latches onto a big pot of boiling water and WHOOSH – the whole thing comes down on him and burns most of his skin off.”
“What a horrible death!”
“No, no, he survives that, too. He’s lying in all that water, and he spots the phone and tries to pull himself up to call for help, but instead he grabs the light switch and pulls the whole thing off the wall and the water and electricity don’t mix and so he’s lying there with the juice running through him and can’t get away from it.”
“What an ugly way to die!”
“No no, he even survives *that*, then he…”
“Hold on now…just how the hell DID he die?”
“I shot him.”
“You shot Mike? What the hell did you shoot him for?”
“Well, he was wrecking my house.”
On a farm near the sea lived a man and a woman and their three sons. Early one morning, the woman awoke, and while looking out of the window onto to the pasture, she saw that the family’s only cow was lying dead in the field. The situation looked hopeless. How could she possibly continue to feed her family now? In a depressed state of mind, she hanged herself from a tree near the barn.When the man awoke to find his wife dead – as well as the cow – he too saw the hopelessness of the situation, and took his life with a pistol shot to his head.
Then the oldest son awoke, and discovered his parents dead – and the cow – and decided to go down to sea and drown himself. When he arrived at the shore, he discovered a mermaid lying on the wet sand. She said, “I know the reason for your despair. But if you will make love to me five times in a row, I will restore your parents – and the cow – to you.” The son agreed to try, but after four times, he was unable to satisfy her again, regardless of the reward. So the mermaid drowned him in the surf.
Next the second oldest son woke up. After learning what had happened he too decided to throw himself into the waters. The mermaid was still on the shore. She said to him, “I know of your losses. If you will make love to me ten times in a row, I will make everything right.” And while the son tried his best, it was not enough to satisfy the mermaid, so she drowned him as well.
The youngest son woke up to find his parents dead, the cow dead and his brothers missing. He saw life to be a hopeless prospect, and, like his brothers, set out for the sea to end his suffering. And there he also met the mermaid. “I have seen what has happened, and I can make everything right if you will only make love to me fifteen times in a row.” The young son replied, “Is that all? Why not twenty times in a row?” Surprised, the mermaid pondered his question for a moment. “Why not twenty-five times in a row, then?”, she proposed, mermaid heart all aflutter. And the young son replied, “How do I know that twenty-five times in a row won’t kill you like it did the cow?”
The worst job I ever had was working for the Pacific Railroad, doing a thing called “gandy-dancing.” Now most of you know the railroad was built partially by Irish labor. Well, back then the workers would use this long handled shovel, made by the Gandy Shovel Company of Great Neck New York. Well, they’d shove one end of the shovel under a railroad tie, and then run out to the other end of the shovel, when they could find it, and do a little jig on it, and they called it “gandy-dancin’”. This would lift the tie up so they could shove gravel under it, which would level the roadbed, so when the train came along, it wouldn’t tip over, which would be a real drag for everyone.Well, nowadays, they run three cars out on the rail: a bunk car, an equipment car, and a mess car. The only thing they don’t give you is a cook. The bosses figure you’ll find out who the best cook is, and use him. Well, they were wrong. Y’see, they just find out who complains the loudest about the cooking, and he gets to be the cook. Well, that was me, see. Ol’ aligator mouth. That was the worst food I’d ever had, and I complained about it. Things like “dog bottom pie” and “pheasant sweat.” I thought it was garbage. So I complained. And everyone said, “alright, you think you can do better? You’re the cook.” Well, that made me mad, see? But I knew, that anyone who complained about my cooking, they were gonna have to cook.
Armed with that knowledge, I sallied forth, over the muddy river. I was walking along, and I saw just this hell of a big moose turd, I mean it was a real steamer! So I said to myself, “self, we’re going to make us some moose turd pie.” So I tipped that prairie pastry on its side, got my sh*t together, so to speak, and started rolling it down towards the cook car: flolump, flolump, flolump. I went in and made a big pie shell, and then I tipped that meadow muffin into it, laid strips of dough across it, and put a sprig of parsley on top. It was beautiful, poetry on a plate, and I served it up for dessert.
Well, this big guy come into the mess car, I mean, he’s about 5 foot forty, and he sets himself down like a fool on a stool, picked up a fork and took a big bite of that moose turd pie. Well he threw down his fork and he let out a bellow, “My God, that’s moose turd pie!”
“It’s good though.”
An old timer is talking to a young man in a bar in Scotland.”Laddy, look oot there ta the field. Do ya see that fence? Look how well it’s built. I built that fence stone by stone with me own two hands. Piled it for months. But do they call me McGregor-the-Fence-Builder? Nooo…”
Then the old man gestures at the bar. “Look here at the bar. Do ya see how smooth and just it is? I planed that surface down by me own achin’ back. I carved that wood with me own hard labour, for eight days. But do they call me McGregor-the-Bar-builder? Nooo…”
Then he points out the window. “Eh, Laddy, look out to sea. Do ya see that pier that stretches out as far as the eye can see? I built that pier with the sweat off me back. I nailed it board by board. But do they call me McGregor-the-Pier-Builder? Nooo…”
He looks around nervously and mutters under his breath, “But ya screw one lousy sheep… “
A philosophy professor stood before his class; before him were some items on a table. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with small rocks. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.He then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles, of course, rolled into the open areas between the rocks. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.
He picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. It found the open space between the rocks and pebbles. He asked once more if it was full. The students responded with a unanimous “yes”. The professor then produced two cans of beer from under the table and proceeded to pour their contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the grains of sand. The students laughed.
“Now,” said the professor, as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The rocks are the important things – your family, your partner, your health, your children – things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, your car. The sand is everything else – the small stuff.
“If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the rocks. The same goes for your life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out dancing. There will always be time to go to work, clean the house, give a dinner party, fix the disposal.
“Take care of the rocks first – the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.”
One of the students raised his hand and inquired what the beer represented.
The professor smiled. “I’m glad you asked. It shows you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of beers.”
A guy goes on a trip into the heart of Africa. Not long after he and his native guide leave the port in their small boat on their long journey upriver into the deep jungle, the drumming starts. The traveler is spooked.”What does all that mean?!” he asks his guide.
“Okay as long as drums keep going”, is the answer.
All day long the first day, the drums are heard with not a single respite. The pounding continues through the night, unabated, to the hunter’s discomfort – he’s still not too happy with this, despite the guide’s assurance. All day long, the second day, they continue. He asks, again, if this isn’t something they should be concerned about. Once more he’s told that the drums are no problem. Shortly after dawn on the third day, the drums stop!
Now the guy’s freaked, and asks, “What happens now?!”
“Worst part now…” replies the guide, “…bass solo!”
The hurricane came unexpectedly. The ship went down and was lost.The man found himself swept up on the shore of an island with no other people, no supplies, nothing to do. Only bananas and coconuts.
So for the next four months he ate bananas, drank coconut juice and longed for his old life. He fixed his gaze on the sea, hoping to spot a rescue ship. One day, as he was lying on the beach, he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. It was a rowboat, and in it was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. She rowed up to him.
In disbelief, he asked her: “Where did you come from? How did you get here?
“I rowed from the other side of the island,” she said. “I landed here when my cruise ship sank.”
“Amazing,” he said. “I didn’t know anyone else survived. How many are there? You were lucky to have a rowboat wash up with you.”
“It’s only me,” she said, “and the rowboat didn’t wash up; nothing did.”
He was confused. “Then how did you get the rowboat?”
“Oh, simple,” replied the woman. “I made the rowboat out of materials that I found on the island. The oars were whittled from Gum tree branches. I wove the bottom from palm branches and the sides and stern came from a eucalyptus tree.
“B-B-But that’s impossible,” stuttered the man. “You had no tools or hardware. How did you manage?”
“Oh, that was no problem,” replied the woman. “On the other side of the island there is a very unusual rock formation exposed. I found that if I fired it to a certain temperature in my kiln, it melted into iron. I used that for tools, and used the tools to make the hardware. “But enough of that,” she said. “Where do you live?”
Sheepishly, he confessed that he had been sleeping on the beach the whole time. “Well, let’s row over to my place, then.” she said.
After a few minutes of rowing she docked the boat at a small wharf. As the man looked to the shore, he nearly fell out of the boat. Before him was a stone walk leading to an exquisite house painted in blue and white. While the woman tied up the rowboat with an expertly woven hemp rope, the man could only stare ahead, dumbstruck.
As they walked into the house, she said casually, “It’s not much, but I call it home. Sit down, please; would you like a drink?” “No, no thank you,” he said, still dazed. “I can’t take any more coconut juice.”
“It’s not coconut juice,” the woman replied. “I have a still. How about a Piña Colada?”
Trying to hide his amazement, the man accepted, and they sat down on her couch to talk . After they had exchanged their stories, the woman announced, “I’m going to slip into something comfortable.
Would you like to take a shower and shave? There is a razor upstairs in the bathroom.”
No longer questioning anything, the man went into the bathroom. There in the cabinet was a razor made from a bone handle. Two shells honed to a hollow ground edge were fastened onto its end. “This woman is amazing,” he thought, “What next?”
When he returned, she greeted him wearing nothing but vines and smelling faintly of gardenias. She beckoned for him to sit down next to her. “Tell me,” she began, suggestively, slithering closer to him, “we’ve been out here for a very long time. You’ve been lonely. There’s something I’m sure you really feel like doing right now, something you’ve been longing for all these months. You know…” She stared into his eyes.
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You mean…” he replied, “I can check my e-mail from here?”
Meyer, a lonely widower, was walking home along Delancy Street one day wishing something wonderful would happen in his life, when he passed a pet store and heard a squawking voice shouting out in Yiddish, “Qwawwwk … vus machts du?” (how’re ya doin’) “Yeah, du.” (Yeah, you.)Meyer rubbed his eyes and ears. Couldn’t believe it. Perfect Yiddish.
The proprietor urged him, “Come in here, fella, and check out this parrot…”
Meyer did. An African Grey cocked his little head and said: “Vus? Kenstsprechen Yiddish?” (What? Can you speak Yiddish?)
In a matter of moments, Meyer had placed five hundred dollars on the counter and carried the parrot in his cage away with him. All night he talked with the parrot. In Yiddish. He told the parrot about his father’s adventures coming to America. About how beautiful his late wife, Sarah, was when she was a young bride. About his family. About his years of working in the garment district. About Florida. The parrot listened and commented. They shared some walnuts. The parrot told him of living in the pet store, how lonely he would get on the weekends. They both went to sleep.
Next morning, Meyer began to put on his tefillin, all the while saying his prayers. The parrot demanded to know what he was doing and when Meyer explained, the parrot wanted to do the same. Meyer went out and had a miniature set of tefillin hand made for the parrot.
The parrot wanted to learn to daven, and learned every prayer. He even wanted to learn to read Hebrew.
So Meyer spent weeks and months, sitting and teaching the parrot, teaching him Torah. In time, Meyer came to love and count on the parrot as a friend and fellow Jew.
One morning, on Rosh Hashanah, Meyer rose and got dressed and was about to leave when the parrot demanded to go with him. Meyer explained that Shul was not a place for a bird, but the parrot made a terrific argument, so Meyer relented and carried the bird to Shul on his shoulder.
Needless to say, they made quite a spectacle, and Meyer was questioned by everyone, including the Rabbi and the Cantor. They refused to allow a bird into the building on the High Holy Days, but Meyer persuaded them to let him in this one time, swearing that parrot could daven.
Wagers were made with Meyer.
Thousands of dollars were bet that the parrot could NOT daven, could not speak Yiddish or Hebrew, etc.
All eyes were on the African Grey during services. The parrot perched on Meyer’s shoulder as one prayer and song passed – Meyer heard not a peep from the bird. He began to become annoyed, slapping at his shoulder and mumbling under his breath, “Daven!”
Nothing.
“Daven…parrot, you can daven, so daven…come on, everyone is looking at you!”
Nothing.
After Rosh Hashanah services were concluded, Meyer found that he owed his Shul buddies and the Rabbi over four thousand dollars..
He marched home, so upset he said nothing to the parrot.
Finally several blocks from the Temple, the parrot began to sing an old Yiddish song, as happy as a lark.
Meyer stopped and looked at him.
“Why? After I had tefillin made for you and taught you the morning prayers, and taught you to read Hebrew and the Torah. And after you begged me to bring you to Shul on Rosh Hashana, why? WHY?!? Why did you do this to me?”
“Meyer, don’t be a schmuck,” the parrot replied. “Think of the odds we’ll get on Yom Kippur.”
A guy sticks his head into a barber shop and asks, “How long before I can get a haircut?” The barber looks around the shop full of customers and says, “About two hours.” The guy leaves.A few days later the same guy sticks his head in the door and asks, “How long before I can get a haircut?” The barber looks around and says, “About three hours.” The guy leaves.
A week later the same guy sticks his head in the shop and asks, “How long before I can get a haircut?” The barber looks around and says, “About an hour and half.” The guy leaves.
The barber turns to a friend and says, “Hey, Bill, do me a favor. Follow that guy and see where he goes. He keeps asking how long he has to wait for a haircut, but then he doesn’t ever come back.”
A little while later Bill returns to the shop, laughing hysterically. The barber asks, “So where does that guy go when he leaves?” Bill replies, “Your house”.
A Texas cowboy stops at a local restaurant following a day roaming around in Mexico. While sipping his tequila, he notices a sizzling, scrumptious looking platter of food being served at the next table. Not only does it look good, its aroma is wonderful. He asks the waiter, “What is that you just served?”The waiter replies, “Ah! You have excellent taste! Those are called Cojones de Toro – they are the bull’s testicles from this morning’s bullfight. A delicacy!”
The cowboy says, “What the heck – bring me an order.”
The waiter replies, “I am so sorry. There is only one serving per day because there is only one bullfight each morning. If you come early and place your order, we will be sure to save you this delicacy.”
The next morning, the cowboy returns, places his order, and that evening is served the special delicacy of the day. After a few bites, inspecting his platter, he calls to the waiter and says, “These are delicious, but they are much, much smaller than the ones I saw you serve yesterday.”
The waiter shrugs his shoulders and replies, “Si. Sometimes the bull wins.”
This woman has her bridge club every Thursday and after a peaceful game or two with the ladies, she goes home to fix her husband dinner when he gets home from work. One day, she’s playing a great game and she has an incredible hand when she notices the time. “Oh, no! I have to go fix my husband his dinner! He’s going to be so angry if it’s not ready on time.” And she dashes out of her friend’s house, her great hand lying forgotten on the table.When she gets home, she realizes she has very little time – not enough time to go to the grocery store – and all she has in the cupboard is a wilted lettuce leaf, an egg and a can of cat food. In a panic, she opens the can of cat food, stirs in the egg, and garnishes it with the lettuce leaf just as her husband is pulling up. She watches in horror as he sits down to his dinner, and then she realizes he’s loving it.
“Mmmm, Honey…this is the best dinner you have made for me in forty years of marriage. You can make this for me any old day. Mmmm!” And that night they have sex for the first time in months and it’s great.
Every Thursday from then on she makes this dinner for her husband. She tells her bridge cronies about it and they’re all horrified. “You’re going to kill him,” they say, or “He’s just yanking your chain,” but she continues to make him his cat food dinner and then, afterwards, they would boink like fiends.
Two months later, her husband dies and the Thursday after the funeral all of the bridge ladies attack the new widow for being so callous. “You killed him! We told you that feeding him that cat food every week would do him in. How can you just sit there so calmly and play bridge knowing you murdered your husband?”
The wife stoically replies, “I didn’t kill him. He broke his neck. He fell off the mantel while he was lying there there licking his ass.”
I used to have a black Labrador retriever and I was buying a large bag of Purina dog food at Wal-Mart and was in line to check out. As pooch people are wont to do, the woman behind me asked what kind of dog I had.On impulse, I told her that I actually didn’t have a dog but I was starting The Purina Diet again, although I probably shouldn’t because I’d ended up in the hospital last time. I’d lost 50 pounds by the time I awakened in an intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IVs in both arms.
I told her that it was essentially a perfect diet and that the way that it works is you load your pockets with Purina nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry and that the food is nutritionally complete and that’s why I was going to try the diet again.
By this time, practically everyone in the line was now enthralled with my story. Horrified, she asked if I’d been poisoned and that was why I wound up in the hospital.
I told her no, that wasn’t it – I was sitting in the street licking my testicles and a car hit me.
A man goes into the unemployment office in Los Angeles to look at job openings on the bulletin board. Since there aren’t many jobs in his field it doesn’t take him long. Then, just as he’s on his way out, he spots something.”Wanted,” it says, “Single man, willing to travel, must have own scissors, $500 per day, plus company car and all expenses.”
Well, it sounds a bit too good to be true, but he makes a note of the number and walks up to the counter. “I’d like to apply for this job,” he says, “it’s E/784/B46.”
“Oh, that one,” says the clerk. “It’s with a model agency right here in Los Angeles. They’re looking for a pubic hair inspector. The agency supplies girls who model underwear and bathing suits. Before they go on the catwalk, they’d report to you and you would inspect them carefully and snip off any wisps of pubic hair showing.”
“It pays well, but there are a few drawbacks. It involves quite a lot of travel. The Bahamas, Tahiti, Paris, London… that sort of thing.”
“I reckon I could learn to live with all that,” says the fellow. “I’d really like to apply for the job.” The clerk shrugs and says, “Okay, here’s an application form and a bus ticket to Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan.”
“Moose Jaw?! That’s in Canada! Why in the world would I want to go to Moose Jaw?”
“Well,” says the clerk, rechecking his computer, “that’s where the end of the application line is at the moment.”
Norman and his wife are eating breakfast one winter morning, when an announcement comes over the radio. “We are expecting 8 to 10 inches of snow today. You must park your car on the even-numbered side of the street so the snowplows can get through.”Norman’s wife goes out and moves her car.
A week later while they are eating breakfast again, the radio announcer says, “We are expecting 10 to 12 inches of snow today. You must park your car on the odd-numbered side of the street so the snowplows can get through.”
Norman’s wife goes out and moves her car again.
The next week, once more during breakfast the announcement comes. “We are expecting 12 to 14 inches of snow today. You must park…”
Then the power goes out.
Norman’s wife is very upset, and with a worried look on her face she says, “Honey, I don’t know what to do. Which side of the street do I need to park on so the snowplows can get through?”
With the love and understanding in his voice that all men exhibit who are married to blondes, Norman says, “Why don’t you just leave it in the garage this time?”
Three women die together in an auto accident and go to heaven.When they get there, Saint Peter says, “We only have one rule here in heaven: don’t step on the ducks.”
So they enter heaven, and sure enough, there are ducks all over the place. It’s almost impossible not to step on a duck, and although they try their best to avoid them the first woman accidentally does just that.
Along comes Saint Peter with the ugliest man she’s ever seen.
He chains them together and says, “Your punishment for stepping on that duck is to spend eternity chained to this ugly man.”
The next day, the second woman accidentally steps on a duck and along comes Saint Peter, who doesn’t miss a thing. With him is another extremely ugly man. He chains them together with the same admonishment.
The third woman has observed all this and, not wanting to be chained for eternity to an ugly man, is very, very careful where she steps.
She manages to go months without stepping on any ducks, and then one day Saint Peter comes up to her with the most handsome man she has ever laid eyes on – very tall, long eyelashes, muscular and thin.
He chains them together without saying a word.
The happy woman says, “I wonder what I did to deserve being chained to you for all of eternity?”
The guy says, “Well, I don’t know about you…but I stepped on a duck.”
A married couple and another man are washed up on a deserted island after a shipwreck. The island has enough food and water to support them, so they concentrate their efforts on trying to signal a passing ship. They assemble the makings for a huge bonfire on the beach, and each day one of the two men climbs to the top of the tallest palm tree to watch for ships. The idea is that if a ship is seen the woman and whichever guy is on the beach will light the bonfire.This goes on for several weeks, and no ships are seen. In the meantime the wife and the single man find themselves attracted to each other. They wonder how they can screw without being found out since the husband is always present. The wife has a plan, and shares it with the man. The next day he is at the top of the palm tree while the husband and wife are sitting on the beach. Suddenly the man in the tree starts screaming, “Stop that! Stop that screwing down there! How can you be so unfeeling and cruel to do that in front of me? Stop that screwing!”. The husband yells back to the guy that they are not screwing – they are just sitting on the beach. The guy in the tree continues screaming for them to stop.
The wife says to her husband that the guy has probably gone crazy from the isolation, and that he can’t be relied upon in the tree-top. She sugggests that he – her husband – go up the tree and let the man come down. The husband agrees that this might be the best solution, and trades places with the man. After a few minutes he looks down at the beach at his wife and the other guy and says to himself, “Gee, from up here it really does look like two people screwing.”
There are two statues in a park; one of a nude man and one of a nude woman. They have been facing each other across a pathway for a hundred years, when one day an angel comes down from the sky and, with a single gesture, brings the two to life.The angel tells them, “As a reward for being so patient through a hundred blazing summers and dismal winters, you have been given life for thirty minutes to do whatever you’ve wished to do the most.”
He looks at her; she looks at him; and they go running behind the shrubbery.
The angel waits patiently as the bushes rustle and giggling ensues.
After fifteen minutes, the two return, out of breath and laughing. The angel tells them, “Um…you have fifteen minutes left. Would you care to do it again?”
He asks her, “Shall we?”
She eagerly replies, “Oh, yes! But let’s change positions. This time, I’ll hold the pigeon down, and you shit on its head.”
Several centuries ago, the Pope decreed that all the Jews had to convert or leave Italy. There was a huge outcry from the Jewish community, so the Pope offered a deal. He would have a religious debate with the leader of the Jewish community. If the Jews won, they could stay in Italy; if the Pope won, they would have to leave.The Jewish people met and picked an aged but wise Rabbi, Moishe, to represent them in the debate. However, as Moishe spoke no Italian and the Pope spoke no Yiddish, both sides agreed that it would be a “silent” debate.
On the chosen day, the Pope and Rabbi Moishe sat opposite each other for a full minute before the Pope raised his hand and showed three fingers. Rabbi Moishe raised one finger.
Next the Pope waved his finger around his head. Rabbi Moishe pointed to the ground where he sat.
The Pope then brought out a communion wafer and a chalice of wine. Rabbi Moishe pulled out an apple.
With that, the Pope stood up and declared that he was beaten, that Rabbi Moishe was too clever and that the Jews could stay.
Later, the Cardinals met with the Pope, asking what had happened. The Pope said, “First I held up three fingers to represent the Trinity. He responded by holding up one finger to remind me that there is still only one God common to both our beliefs.
“Then, I waved my finger to show him that God was all around us. He responded by pointing to the ground to show that God was also right here with us.
“I pulled out the wine and wafer to show that God absolves us of all our sins. He pulled out an apple to remind me of the original sin. He had me beaten and I could not continue.”
Meanwhile the Jewish community was gathered around Rabbi Moishe. “What happened?” they asked.
“Well,” said Moishe, “First he said to me that we had three days to get out of Italy, so I said to him, Up yours! Then he told me that the whole country would be cleared of Jews and I said to him, Mr. Pope, we’re staying right here.”
“And then what?” asked a woman.
“Who knows?” said the Rabbi, “He took out his lunch so I took out mine.”
In the days of the wild west, there was a young cowboy who wanted more than anything to be the greatest gunfighter in the world. He practiced every minute of his spare time, but he knew that he wasn’t yet first-rate and that there must be something he was doing wrong. Sitting in a saloon one Saturday night, he recognized an elderly man seated at the bar who had the reputation of being the fastest gun in the west in his day.The young cowboy took a seat next to the old-timer, bought him a drink, and told him the story of his great ambition. “Do you think you could give me some tips?” he asked.
The old man looked him up and down and said, “Well, for one thing, you’re wearing your gun too high. Tie the holster a bit lower down on your leg.
“Will that make me a better gunfighter?” asked the young man. “Sure will,” said the old-timer.
The young man did as he was told, stood up, whipped out his Colt Peacemaker and shot the tie off the piano player. “That’s terrific!” said the cowboy. “Got any more tips for me?”
“Yep,” said the old man. “Cut a notch out of your holster where the hammer hits it. That’ll give you a smoother draw.”
“Will that make me a better gunfighter?” asked the younger man. “You bet it will,” said the old-timer.
The young man took out his knife, cut the notch, stood up, drew his gun in a blur, then shot a cufflink off the piano player.
“Wow!” said the cowboy. “I’m learning’ somethin’ here. Got any more tips?”
The old man pointed to a large can in a corner of the saloon. “See that axle grease over there? Coat your gun with it.” The young man went over to the can and smeared some of the grease on the barrel of his gun. “No,” said the old-time, “I mean smear it all over the gun, handle and all.”
“Will that make me a better gunfighter?” asked the young man.
“No,” said the old-timer, “but when Wyatt Earp gets done playing that song on the piano, he’s going to shove that gun up your ass and that grease’ll make it hurt less.”
Two old men, Bill and Sam, have been friends all their lives. Now Sam is dying and Bill comes to visit him every day.”Sam,” says Bill one evening, “You know we’ve both loved baseball all our lives, and how we played minor league ball together for so many years. You have to do me one favor. When you get to heaven, and I know you will go there, somehow you’ve got to let me know if there’s baseball there.”
Sam looks up at Bill, and says, “Bill, you’ve been my best friend many years. This favor, if it is at all possible, I’ll do for you.”
And shortly after that, Sam passes on.
It is midnight a couple of nights later. Bill is sound asleep when he is awakened by a blinding flash of white light and a voice calls out to him, “Bill…. Bill….”
“What?! Who is it?” asks Bill, sitting up suddenly. “Who’s there?”
“Bill, it’s me – Sam.”
“Come on. You’re not Sam. Sam just died.”
“I’m telling you,” insists the voice. “It’s me, Sam.”
“Sam? Is that really you? Where are you?”
“I’m in heaven,” says Sam, “and I’ve got to tell you, I’ve got really good news and a little bad news.”
“So, tell me the good news first,” says Bill.
“The good news,” replies Sam, “is that there is baseball in heaven. Better yet, all our old buddies went before us are here. Better yet, we’re all young men again. And it’s always spring time and it never rains or snows or gets too hot to play. And best of all, we can play baseball all we want and we never get tired.”
“Really?” says Bill. “Thats’ fantastic! Wonderful beyond my wildest dreams! But, what’s the bad news?”
“You’re pitching next Tuesday.”
Saturday morning I got up early, put on my long johns, dressed quietly, made my lunch, grabbed the dog, slipped quietly into the garage to hook the boat up to the truck, and proceeded to back out into a torrential downpour.There was snow mixed with the rain, and the wind was blowing 50 mph. I pulled back into the garage, turned on the radio, and discovered that the weather would be bad throughout the day. I went back into the house, quietly undressed, and slipped back into bed.
There I cuddled up to my wife’s back and now with a different kind of anticipation, I whispered, “The weather out there is terrible.”
She sleepily replied, “Can you believe my stupid husband is out fishing in that shit?”
This guy was really lonely and decided life would be more fun if he had a pet. So he went to the pet store and told the owner that he wanted to buy something unusual.After some discussion he finally bought a centipede, which came in a little white box to use for his house.
He took the box home, found a good location for it, and decided he would start off by taking his new pet to the bar for a drink. So he asked the centipede in the box, “Would you like to go to Frank’s place with me and have a beer?”
But there was no answer.
This bothered him a bit, so he waited a few minutes and then asked again, but once more there was no answer from his new little friend.
So he waited a few minutes more, thinking about the situation. He decided to ask one more time. This time he put his face up against the centipede’s house and shouted, “Hey, in there! Would you like to go to Frank’s place and have a drink with me?”
A little voice came out of the box: “I heard you the first time! I’m putting my damned shoes on!”
Towards the end of the day’s round of golf, Dave hit his ball into the woods and found it in a patch of pretty yellow buttercups. Trying to get his ball back in play, he ended up thrashing just about every flower in the patch.All of a sudden, poof! In a flash of light and a puff of smoke, a little old woman appeared.
She said, “I’m Mother Nature! Do you know how long it took me to make those buttercups? Just for doing what you’ve done, you won’t have any butter for your popcorn for the rest of your life. Better still, you won’t have any butter for your toast for the rest of your life. As a matter of fact, you’ll never have any butter for anything for the rest of your life!”
And then, as quickly as she had materialized, she was gone.
After Dave recovered from the shock – and his bad lie -he hollered for his friend, “Fred, where are you?”
Fred shouted back, “I’m over here in the damned pussy willows.”
And Dave replied, “DON’T SWING, Fred! For the love of God, DON’T SWING!
Morris and his wife Esther went to the state fair every year, and every year Morris would say, “Ester, I’d like to ride in that helicopter.”Esther always replied, “I know Morris, but that helicopter ride is fifty dollars, and fifty dollars is fifty dollars.”
One year Esther and Morris went to the fair, and Morris said, “Esther, I’m 85 years old. If I don’t ride in that helicopter, I might never get another chance.”
To this Esther replied, “Morris, that helicopter ride is fifty dollars, and fifty dollars is fifty dollars.”
The pilot overheard the couple and said, “Folks, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll take both of you for a ride. If you can stay quiet for the entire ride and not say a word, I won’t charge you. But if you say one word, it’s fifty dollars.”
Morris and Esther agreed and up they went. The pilot did all kinds of fancy maneuvers, but not a word was heard. He did his daredevil tricks over and over again, but still not a word. When they landed, the pilot turned to Morris and said, “By golly, I did everything I could to get you guys to yell out, but you didn’t. I’m impressed!”
Morris replied, “Well, to tell you the truth, I almost said something when Esther fell out, but you know, fifty dollars is fifty dollars.”
A traveling salesman visits a small town in rural Texas and sees a circus banner reading: “Don’t Miss The Amazing Texan”. The salesman is curious, so he buys a ticket. The tent goes dark. Suddenly, trumpets blare, the lights come up and all eyes turn to the center ring. There is revealed a table with three walnuts on it. Standing next to the table is an old retired cowboy. Suddenly the old cowboy unzips his jeans, whips it out, and smashes all three walnuts with three mighty swings! The crowd erupts in applause and the elderly Texan is carried off on their shoulders.Ten years later the salesman visits the same little town and he sees a faded sign for the same circus and the same banner warning “Don’t Miss the Amazing Texan”. He can’t believe the old guy is still alive, much less still doing his act. So he buys a ticket.
Again, when the center ring is illuminated, there stand the table and the old cowboy. But this time, instead of walnuts, three coconuts are placed on the table. The old guy stands before them, then suddenly unzips his fly, whips it out, and smashes the coconuts with three amazing swings. The crowd goes wild! Flabbergasted, the salesman requests a meeting with him after the show. “You’re incredible,” he tells the Texan. “But I have to know something. You’re older now, so why in the world would you switch from walnuts to coconuts?”
“Well,” says the old cowboy, “my eyes ain’t what they used to be.”
In 1986, Mikele Membe was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from Northwestern University.On a hike through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with its left front leg raised in the air. The elephant seemed distressed; Membe approached it very carefully.
He got down on one knee and inspected the elephant’s foot and found a large piece of wood deeply embedded in it.
As carefully and as gently as he could, Membe worked the wood out with his hunting knife, after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot.
The elephant turned to face the man, and with a rather curious look on its face, stared at him for several tense moments.
Membe stood frozen, thinking of nothing else but being trampled. Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned, and walked away.
Membe never forgot that elephant or the events of that day. Twenty years later, Membe was walking through the Chicago Zoo with his teenaged son.
As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned and walked over to near where Membe and his son Tapu were standing.
The large bull elephant stared at Membe, lifted its left front foot off the ground, then put it down. The elephant did that several times then trumpeted loudly, all the while staring at the man.
Remembering the encounter in 1986, Membe couldn’t help wondering if this was the same elephant.
Membe summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing and made his way into the enclosure. He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder. The elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of Membe’s legs and slammed him against the railing, killing him instantly.
Probably wasn’t the same elephant.
A drunk staggered home very late after another evening with his drinking buddy.He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife. He tiptoed as quietly as he could toward the stairs leading to their upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step. As he caught himself by grabbing the banister, his body swung around and he landed heavily on his rump. A whiskey bottle in each back pocket broke and made the landing especially painful.
Managing not to yell, he got up, pulled down his pants, and looked in the hall mirror to see that his butt cheeks were cut and bleeding. He managed to quietly find a box of Band-Aids and began putting a Band-Aid as best he could on each place he saw blood.
He then hid the now almost empty Band-Aid box and shuffled and stumbled his way to bed. In the morning, he woke up with searing pain in both his head and butt and his wife staring at him from across the room.
“You were drunk again last night weren’t you?”
“Why do you say such a mean thing?”
“Well, it could be the open front door; it could be the broken glass at the bottom of the stairs; it could be the drops of blood trailing through the house; it could be your bloodshot eyes. But mostly it’s all those Band-Aids stuck on the hall mirror.”
A successful rancher died and left everything to his devoted wife. She was determined to keep the ranch, but knew very little about ranching, so she placed a newspaper ad for a hired hand.Only one man applied. Luckily, he proved to be a hard worker who put in long hours every day and knew a lot about ranching. For weeks the two of them worked hard and the ranch was doing very well. Then one day, the widow said, “You’ve done a really good job, and the ranch is coming along fine. Why don’t you go on into town and and kick up your heels one of these nights?”
The hired hand readily agreed and that Saturday night went into town for some fun.
He returned around 2:30 am, and upon entering the house, he was surprised to find the widow still up, sitting by the fireplace with a glass of wine, waiting for him.
She quietly called him over to her. “Unbutton my blouse and remove it,” she said. Trembling, he did as she directed.
“Now take off my boots.” He did as she asked, ever so slowly.
“Now take off my socks.” He removed each one gently and placed them neatly by her boots.
“Now take off my skirt.” He slowly unbuttoned it, watching her eyes in the dancing firelight.
“Now take off my bra.” Again, with trembling hands he did as he was told and dropped it to the floor.
Then she looked at him and said, “Now…if you ever wear my clothes into town again, you’re fired.”
A man walked into a cafe, went to the bar and ordered a beer.”Certainly, Sir, that’ll be one cent.”
“One Cent?” the man thought.
He glanced at the menu and asked, “How much for a nice juicy steak and a bottle of wine?”
“A nickel,” the barman replied.
“A nickel?” exclaimed the man, “Where’s the guy who owns this place?”
The bartender replied, “Upstairs, with my wife.”
The man asked, “What’s he doing upstairs with your wife?”
The bartender replied, “The same thing I’m doing to his business down here.”
Three Rednecks – Cooter, Ronnie and Donnie – were working up on a cell phone tower. As they started their descent Cooter slipped, fell off the tower and was killed by the fall.As the ambulance took the body away, Ronnie said, “Well, damn. Someone should go and tell his wife.”
Donnie said, “Okay – I’m pretty good at that sensitive stuff. I’ll do it.”
Two hours later, he came back carrying a case of Budweiser.
Ronnie asked, “Where’d you get the beer, Donnie?”
“Cooter’s wife gave it to me,” Donnie replied.
“That’s unbelievable! You told her her husband was dead and she gave you beer?”
“Well, not exactly. When she answered the door, I said to her, ‘You must be Cooter’s widow.’”
She said, “I ain’t no widow.”
Then I said, “I’ll bet you a case of Bud you are.”
A store that sells new husbands has opened in New York City, where a woman may go to choose a husband. Among the instructions at the entrance is a description of how the store operates:
You may visit this store ONLY ONCE! There are six floors and the value of the products increase as the shopper ascends the flights. The shopper may choose any item from a particular floor, or may choose to go up to the next floor, but cannot go back down except to exit the building!
So, a woman goes to the Husband Store to find a husband. On the first floor the sign on the door reads:
Floor 1 – These men Have Jobs.
She is intrigued, but continues to the second floor, where the sign reads:
Floor 2 – These men Have Jobs and Love Kids.
“That’s nice,” she thinks, “but I want more.”
So she continues upward. The third floor sign reads:
Floor 3 – These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, and are Extremely Good Looking.
“Wow,” she thinks, but feels compelled to keep going.
She goes to the fourth floor and the sign reads:
Floor 4 – These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop-dead Good Looking and Help With Housework.
“Oh, mercy me!” she exclaims, “I can hardly stand it!”
Still, she goes to the fifth floor and the sign reads:
Floor 5 – These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop- dead Gorgeous, Help with Housework, and Have a Strong Romantic Streak.
She is so tempted to stay, but she goes to the sixth floor, where the sign reads:
Floor 6 – You are visitor 31,456,012 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please. Thank you for shopping at the Husband Store.
To avoid gender bias charges, the store’s owner opened a New Wives store just across the street.
The first floor has wives that love sex.
The second floor has wives that love sex and have money and like beer.
The third, fourth, fifth and sixth floors have never been visited.
A couple sees a classified ad for placing a “Christian dog” in a good home. “How,” they wonder, “do the owners know the dog is Christian?” So they have to go check it out.”Oh, yes,” the owners say, “he’s a good Christian dog. Watch this.” They call the dog over and command, “Pray!”
The dog, of course, puts his head down on his paws and appears to be praying.
“Umm…okay, nice trick. But it doesn’t prove he’s Christian.”
“Well, how about this? Fido, what will comfort me when I’m dying?”
The dog retrieves the family bible, then flips the pages to the 23rd Psalm, putting his paw over the verse that says, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil”.
The couple is, naturally, impressed. They take the dog home.
A few days later, their pastor comes by to visit, and they’re showing off the dog. The dog prays, the dog finds comforting verses in the Bible. The dog is, obviously, a Christian.
The pastor’s wife timidly asks, “Does he do any…you know…normal dog tricks?”
“Well, let’s see…Fido, roll over!”
The dog rolls over.
“Fido, shake hands!”
The dog goes to the pastor and offers his paw.
“Fido, heel!”
The dog goes to the pastor’s wife and puts his paw on her forehead.
“Oh my goodness”, remarks the pastor, “he’s a Pentecostal dog!”
The wife’s story…Fresh from my shower, I stood in front of the mirror complaining to my husband that my breasts were too small. Instead of characteristically telling me it wasn’t so, he uncharacteristically came up with a suggestion.
“If you want your breasts to grow, then every day take a piece of toilet paper and rub it between them for a few seconds.”
Willing to try anything, I fetched a piece of toilet paper and stood there rubbing it between my breasts. “How long will this take?” I asked him.
“They’ll grow larger over a period of years,” my husband replied.
I stopped. “Do you really think rubbing a piece of toilet paper between my breasts every day will make them larger over the years?”
Without missing a beat he said, “Worked for your ass, didn’t it?”
He’s still alive, and with a great deal of therapy he may even walk again, although he will probably continue to take his meals through a straw. Stupid, stupid man!
This morning I got call from an ex-girlfriend who phoned me of the blue to see if I was still around.We lost track of time, chatting about the wild, sexy and romantic times we used to enjoy together.
I couldn’t believe it when she asked if I’d be interested in meeting up and rekindling a little of that old magic.
I was flabbergasted. “I don’t know if I could keep up with you now,” I said, “I’m a older and greyer than when you last saw me. Plus I don’t really have the energy I used to have.”
She just laughed and said she was sure I would “rise to the challenge”.
“Yeah,” I said. “just so long as you don’t mind a man with a waistline that’s a few inches bigger these days. Not to mention my lack of muscle tone. Stuff sagging, my teeth not as white, and so on.
She chuckled and told me to stop being silly. She teased me, saying that tubby, grey-haired, older men were cute, and she was sure I would still be a great lover.
Then she giggled and said, “I’ve put on quite a bit of weight myself!”
So I told her to get lost and I hung up.
By day and by night, there walks upon the land* a Monster in the form of a new parent armed with photographs of the sprog it recently threw. The Monster will corner you when you least expect it, with no provocation, and subject your eyes and sensibilities to these images.The warnings range from subtle to overt. At the stealth end of the spectrum lies the Purse Or Wallet Move. When you see a purse or wallet being accessed, try to remember if your companion and you were just engaged in a discussion about credit cards or car keys or who’s paying the tab or something else that might naturally lead to a Purse Or Wallet Move. If not, there’s a good chance that The Monster is about to make an appearance. Certainly, in the case of The Purse Move, this might be just be a makeup or tissue or, if this is a person of stink, cigarette access. But until you’re sure that it’s something like that, be ready to fend off The Monster – which defense will be discussed shortly. Remember, readiness is preparedness. Or next to Godliness. Or something like that.
Of course, at the other end of the range is the dreaded Verbal Warning, which usually takes the form of a rhetorical question of the nature of “Have I shown you little Drooler’s latest pictures?” Rhetorical? To be sure. There is no recorded instance of a “YES!” preventing the arrival of The Monster. And records go clear back to the beginning of practical photography; before that, only those who could afford to have an artist paint or draw the likeness of their sproggen could have such images and they weren’t something that they’d drag around to assault you with on your lunch break from the limestone quarry. But at least with the Verbal Warning, you get a few more seconds to think – to remember The Response.
The Response, and the only one that’s ever proven effective, is (write this down for familiarization): “It looks just like a baby.”
Do not lead to The Monster’s long suit with a compliment and do not note a similarity with one of the parents. In the first case, babies mostly look like somebody’s first attempt in clay class at making a face. In the second case, there won’t be a similarity to anyone; babies and adults don’t look anything alike, other than, if lucky, having the same number of eyes, ears, nostrils, and so on.
Respond the instant that the photo is displayed. Do not look at it for more than one-half second. Respond with total deadpan. Try to get eye contact with The Monster so you know it sees the deadpan. Respond with “It looks just like a baby” and then shut up! But retain eye contact with The Monster if possible. On a good day, with a reasonably sentient Monster, you will get a surprised – and perhaps disappointed – look, but the photo will disappear and you will be saved from the contents of the rest of that plastic accordion. I will repeat: shut up after you’ve given The Response. The deer-in-the-headlights look you’ll hopefully receive is a good thing. It shows that The Monster is confused; when The Monster is confused it packs up its stuff. You, one; Monster, zero.
Try it – it works.**
