The husband was not home at his usual hour, and the wife was fuming, as the clock ticked later and later.
Finally, about 3:00 AM she heard a noise at the front door, and as she stood at the top of the stairs, there was her husband, drunk as a skunk, trying to navigate the stairs.
"Do you realize what time it is?" she asked.
He answered, "Dont get excited. Im late because I bought something for the house."
Immediately her attitude changed, and as she ran down the stairs to meet him halfway, she asked, "What did you buy for the house, dear?"
His answer was, "A round of drinks!"
A man was drinking at a bar and the bartender came over to tell him he had a visitor waiting for him outside the bar.
He had just bought another large beer and he didn"t want anyone to drink it.
So, he wrote a little sign on a piece of paper and left it by his beer that said: "I spit in my beer."
When he returned to his bar stool there was another note beside his beer: "I spit in your beer too!"
Yo mama is so fat every time she sits down they add another country to the map.
Q: What's the difference between a genealogist and a gynecologist?
A: The genealogist checks the family tree and the gynecologist checks the family bush.
Son: "Mom, I love you so much!"
Mother: "I don't have any money, try it with your dad."
A man walks into a bar and orders a 12-year-old scotch.
The bartender, believing that the customer will not be able to tell the difference, pours him a shot of the cheap 3-year-old house scotch that has been poured into an empty bottle of the good stuff.
The man takes a sip and spits the scotch out on the bar and reams the bartender.
“This is the cheapest 3-year-old scotch you can buy. I’m not paying for it. Now, give me a good 12-year-old scotch.”
The bartender, now feeling a bit of a challenge, pours him a scotch of much better quality, 6-year-old scotch.
The man takes a sip and spits it out on the bar.
“This is only 6-year-old scotch. I won’t pay for this, and I insist on a good, 12-year-old scotch.
The bartender finally relents and serves the man his best quality, 12-year-old scotch.
The man sips the drink and says, “Now that’s more like it.”
An old drunk from the end of the bar, who has witnessed the entire episode, walks down to the finicky scotch drinker and sets a glass down in front of him and asks, “What do you think of this?”
The scotch expert takes a sip, and in disgust, violently spits out the liquid yelling “THIS TASTES LIKE PISS.”
To which the old drunk replies, “That’s right, now guess how old I am.”
If God is a woman then we're all going to go to Hell, but we'll never know why.
I was due for an appointment with the gynecologist later in the week.
Early one morning, I received a call from the doctor's office to tell me that I had been rescheduled for that morning at 9:30 am.
I had only just packed everyone off to work and school, and it was already around 8:45am.
The trip to his office took about 35 minutes, so I didn't have any time to spare.
As most women do, I like to take a little extra effort over hygiene when making such visits, but this time I wasn't going to be able to make the full effort.
So, I rushed upstairs, threw off my pajamas, wet the washcloth that was sitting next to the sink, and gave myself a quick wash in that area to make sure I was at least presentable.
I threw the washcloth in the clothes basket, donned some clothes, hopped in the car and raced to my appointment.
I was in the waiting room for only a few minutes when I was called in.
Knowing the procedure, as I'm sure you do, I hopped up on the table, looked over at the other side of the room and pretended that I was in Paris or some other place a million miles away.
I was a little surprised when the doctor said, "My, we've made an extra effort this morning, haven't we?" I didn’t respond.
After the appointment, I heaved a sigh of relief and went home.
The rest of the day was normal... Some shopping, cleaning, cooking.
After school when my 6 year old daughter was playing, she called out from the bathroom, "Mommy, where's my washcloth?"
I told her to get another one from the cupboard.
She replied, "No, I need the one that was here by the sink, it had all my glitter and sparkles saved inside it."
Before I criticize a man, I like to walk a mile in his shoes.
That way, when I do criticize him, I'm a mile away and I have his shoes.
What to do if you fall into a conversation with someone about the terrorist attacks who doesn't believe in retaliation:
1. Engage in conversation, and ask if military force is appropriate.
2. When he says "No," ask, "Why not?"
3. Wait until he says something to the effect of "Because that would just cause more innocent deaths, which would be awful and we should not cause more violence."
4. When he's in mid sentence, punch him in the face as hard as you can.
5. When he gets back up to punch you, point out that it would be a mistake and contrary to his values to strike you, because that would be awful and he should not cause more violence.
6. Wait until he agrees, and has pledged not to commit additional violence.
7. Punch him in the face again, harder this time.
8. Repeat steps 5 through 8 until he understands that sometimes it is necessary to punch back.