"Men are like fine wine. They all start out like grapes, and it's our job to stomp on them and keep them in the dark until they mature into something with which you'd like to have dinner with."
"Women are like fine wine. They all start out fresh, fruity and intoxicating to the mind and then turn full-bodied with age until they go all sour and vinegary and give you a headache."
How do you get a redhead to argue with you?
Say something.
How do you get a redhead's mood to change?
Wait 10 seconds.
If you love a Redhead, set her free ... if she follows you everywhere you go, pitches a tent in your front lawn and puts your new girlfriend in the hospital, she's yours.
What's safer: a redhead or a piranha?
The piranha, they only attack in schools.
How do you know a guy at the beach has a redhead for a girlfriend?
She has scratched "hands off MY MAN!" on his back with her nails.
What do you call a Redhead with an attitude?
Normal.
What do you call a woman who knows where her husband is every night?
A redhead!
How do you know when your redhead has forgiven you?
She stops washing your clothes in the toilet bowl
How do you know when a redhead has been using a computer?
There's a hammer embedded in the monitor.
Only two things are necessary to keep a redhead happy. One is to let her think she is having her own way and the other is to let her have it.
How do you know when a redhead is sexually satisfied?
She unties you.
I hate to be the one to defy sacred myth, but I believe he's a she. Think about it. Christmas is a big, organized, warm, fuzzy, nurturing, social deal, and I have a tough time believing a guy could possibly pull it all off! For starters, the vast majority of men don't even think about selecting gifts until Christmas Eve. Once at the mall, they always seem surprised to find only Ronco products, socket wrench sets, and mood rings left on the shelves. On this count alone, I'm convinced Santa is a woman. Surely, if he were a man, everyone in the universe would wake up Christmas morning to find a rotating musical Chia Pet under the tree, still in the bag. Another problem for a he-Santa would be getting there. First of all, there would be no reindeer because they would all be dead, gutted and strapped on to the rear bumper of the sleigh amid wide-eyed, desperate claims that buck season had been extended. Blitzen's rack would already be on the way to the taxidermist. Even if the male Santa DID have reindeer, he'd still have transportation problems because he would inevitably get lost up there in the snow and clouds and then refuse to stop and ask for directions.
Other reasons why Santa can't possibly be a man:
-Men can't pack a bag.
-Men would rather be dead than caught wearing red velvet.
-Men would feel their masculinity is threatened... having to be seen with all those elves.
-Men don't answer their mail.
-Men would refuse to allow their physique to be described, even in jest, as anything remotely resembling a "bowlful of jelly."
-Men aren't interested in stockings unless somebody's wearing them.
-Having to do the Ho Ho Ho thing would seriously inhibit their ability to pick up women.
-Finally, being responsible for Christmas would require a commitment.
I can buy the fact that other mythical holiday characters are men:
-Father Time shows up once a year unshaven and looking ominous. Definite guy.
-Cupid flies around carrying weapons.
-Uncle Sam is a politician who likes to point fingers.
Any one of these individuals could pass the testosterone screening test. But not St. Nick.
Santa has to be a man. Although he might be slightly atypical (red velvet isn't exactly flattering), and he obviously gets a lot of support from Mrs. Claus, it's clear that only a man has what it takes to be Santa.
- No woman could ever drive fast enough to deliver the gifts in one night.
- No woman would go near a chimney, much less risk dirtying her outfit by using it to sneak in.
- Contrary to the above assertion, men pack better than women. No woman could fit all the gifts in the sleigh much less the bag.
- Does Santa need to stop for directions? Nope! Must be a guy.
- Santa doesn't have to shop. That's what the elves are for! Also, he doesn't have to associate with them: he's the boss.
- When was the last time you wrote a letter to Santa and got an answer? If Santa were a woman every Christmas letter would be responded to with Santa's life story. The north pole operation would go broke from stationary and postage expenses.
- "Ho, Ho, Ho" can be a pretty good pickup line, especially for a man who knows where the naughty girls are and when they're awake!
- Isn't it possible that a man's interest in stockings comes from a suppressed longing for the innocence of childhood Christmases? (OK, That's a stretch.)
- "Bowl full of jelly" was an edit by the censors. Santa described it as a "Bowl full of Jell-O shots, beer, and buffalo wings".
Other holiday figures might be women. The Tooth Fairy (obviously) and the Easter Bunny (pastel colors, hiding what you want) spring to mind. But Santa Claus is (as history clearly shows) definitely a man.
A preacher was telling his congregation that anything they could think of, old or new, was discussed somewhere in the Bible and that the entirety of the human experience could be found there.
After the service, he was approached by a woman who said, "Preacher, I don't believe the Bible mentions PMS."
The preacher replied that he was sure it must be in there somewhere and that he would look for it.
The following week after service, the preacher called the woman aside and showed her a passage which read,
"And Mary rode Joseph's ass all the way to Bethlehem."
Editor's Addendum... Of course, some may say this was not PMS since we know Mary was pregnant. However, anyone who has been near a pregnant woman knows that the signs and symptoms of pregnancy are consistent with the findings in the syndrome.
Why do men die before their wives?
They want to.
I married Miss Right. I just didn't know her first name was "Always".
In the beginning, God created earth and rested. Then God created man and rested. Then God created woman. Since then, neither God nor man has rested.
Just think, if it weren't for marriage, men would go through life thinking they had no faults at all.
Scientists have discovered a food that diminishes a woman's sex drive by 90% ...It's a Wedding cake.
I haven't spoken to my wife for 18 months. I don't like to interrupt her.
Bigamy is having one wife too many. Some say monogamy is the same.
Why do men pass gas more than women?
Because women won't shut up long enough to build up pressure.
If your dog is barking at the back door and your wife is yelling at the front door, who do you let in first?
The dog of course...at least he'll shut up after you let him in.
All wives are alike, but they have different faces so you can tell them apart.
Marriage is a 3 ring circus: Engagement ring, wedding ring, and suffer-ring.
My wife and I are inseparable. In fact, last week it took four state troopers and a dog.
What is the difference between a dog and a fox? About 5 drinks.
A beggar walked up to a well dressed woman shopping on Rodeo Drive and said "I haven't eaten anything in four days." She looked at him and said, "God, I wish I had your willpower."
Do you know the punishment for bigamy?
Two mothers-in-law.
Young Son: Is it true, Dad, I heard that in some parts of Africa a man doesn't know his wife until he marries her? Dad: That happens in every country, son.
The most effective way to remember your wife's birthday is to forget it once.
First guy (proudly): "My wife's an angel!" Second guy: "You're lucky, mine's still alive."
If you want your wife to listen and pay undivided attention to every word you say, talk in your sleep.
Then there was a man who said, "I never knew what real happiness was until I got married; and then it was too late."
A little boy asked his father, "Daddy, how much does it cost to get married?" And the father replied, "I don't know son, I'm still paying."
The bumper sticker read: "I lost 250 pounds in one day! I divorced her."
Women will never be equal to men until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut, and still think they are beautiful.
If your wife keeps coming out of the kitchen to nag you, what have you done wrong? Made her chain too long.
Why is a hurricane like a woman? It starts with a great blow, but when it's over, your house and car are gone.
What is the difference between a battery and a woman? A battery has a positive side.
Do you know why they call it the Wonder Bra? When you take it off you wonder where the breasts went.
The REBUTTAL
What's the fastest way to a man's heart? Through his chest with a sharp knife.
What is it when a man talks nasty to a woman? Sexual harassment. What is it when a woman talks nasty to a man? $3.99 a minute.
What's the difference between a boyfriend and a husband? 45 minutes.
How many men does it take to change a light bulb? None, they just sit there in the dark and complain.
Why are men like public toilets? Because all the good ones are engaged and the only ones left are full of crap.
What have men and floor tiles got in common? If you lay them properly the first time, you can walk all over them for life.
What is the difference between a man and a catfish? One is a bottom-feeding scum-sucker and the other is a fish.
Why is it so hard for women to find men that are sensitive, caring, and good looking? Because those men already have boyfriends.
What is a man's view of safe sex? A padded headboard.
How do men sort their laundry? "Filthy" and "Filthy but Wearable"
Why did God create man? Because a vibrator can't mow the lawn.
What's the difference between a new husband and a new dog? After a year, the dog is still excited to see you.
We got off the Titanic first.
We can scare male bosses with mysterious gynecological disorder excuses.
We get to flirt with systems support men who always return our calls, and are nice to us when we blow up our computers. (We just fix them ourselves.)
When we buy a vibrator, it's glamorous. When men buy a blow up doll, it's pathetic.
We have charismatic charm when we wear men's clothes-men look like complete idiots in ours.
We can be groupies-male groupies are stalkers.
We have unbeatable oral skills---even the most macho men will agree.
Females with sexual fantasies are intriguing and arousing-men with the same are perverts and pedophiles.
We can cry and get out of speeding fines.
We've never lusted after a cartoon character or the central figure in a computer game. (So? If Elmer Fudd was as hot as Jessica Rabbit you would!)
Men die earlier, so we get to cash in on the life insurance. (Ouch.)
We can hug our friends without wondering if she thinks we're gay.
We can hug our friends without wondering if we're gay.
We know the truth about whether size matters. (So do we!)
We have an excuse to be a total bitch at least once a month. (But heaven forbid we mention it!)
New lipstick gives us a whole new lease on life.
If we have sex with someone and don't call them the next day we're not the devil.
Condoms make no significant difference in our enjoyment of sex.
We can sleep our way to the top.
Nothing crucial can be cut off with one clean sweep. (Big Ouch!)
It's possible to live our whole lives without taking a group shower. (Too bad for us!)
We don't have to fart to amuse ourselves. (So?)
We never have to wonder if his orgasm was real.
If we forget to shave, no one has to know.
We can congratulate our teammate without ever touching her ass. (Bummer.)
We never have to reach down every so often to make sure our privates are still with us.
If we're dumb, some people will find it cute. (Empahsis on "some")
We don't have to memorize Caddyshack to fit in. ("Be the ball, Danny")
If we marry someone 20 years younger, we're aware that we look like an idiot.
There are times when chocolate really can solve all your problems. (So True.)
Gay waiters don't make us uncomfortable.
We'll never regret piercing our ears.
We know which glass was ours by the lipstick mark.
We can talk to people of the opposite sex without having to picture them naked. (You don't know what you're missing!)
In-class Assignment for Wednesday:
"Today we will experiment with a form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. One of you will then write the first paragraph of a short story. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back and forth. Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."
STORY: (first paragraph by Rebecca)
At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile'. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17,"he said into his trans-galactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off, a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.
He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" She pondered wistfully.
Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through Congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion which vaporized Laurie and 85 million other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table. "We can't allow this! I'm going to veto that treaty! Let's blow 'em out of the sky!"
This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic, semi-literate adolescent.
Yeah? Well, you're a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium.
Asshole.
Bitch
Let's say a guy named Roger is attracted to a woman named Elaine. He asks her out to a movie, she accepts. They have a pretty good time. A few nights later, he asks her out to dinner. Again they enjoy themselves.
They continue seeing each other regularly, and after a while neither one of them is seeing anybody else. And then, one evening when they're driving home, a thought occurs to Elaine, and without really thinking she says it out loud, "Do you realize that as of tonight we've been seeing each other for exactly six months!" And then there is silence in the car.
To Elaine it seems like a very loud silence.
She thinks to herself: Geez, I wonder if it bothers him that I said that Maybe he's been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I'm trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he doesn't want, or isn't sure of.
And Roger is thinking: Gosh, six months.
And Elaine is thinking: But hey, I'm not so sure I want this kind of relationship either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I'd have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily toward. I mean, where are we going? Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading towards marriage? Towards children? Towards a lifetime together? Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know this person?
And Roger is thinking: so that means it was ... let's see ...February when we started going out, which was right after I had the car at the dealer's, which means ... lemme check the odometer ... Whoa! I am way overdue for an oil change here.
And Elaine is thinking: He's upset. I can see it on his face. Maybe I'm reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed --even before I sensed it-that I was feeling some reservations. Yes, I bet that's it. That's why he is so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He's afraid of being rejected.
And Roger is thinking: And I'm gonna have them look at the transmission again. I don't care what those morons say, it's still not shifting right. And they better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time. What cold weather? It's 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting like a damn garbage truck, and I paid those incompetent thieves $600.
And Elaine is thinking: He's angry. And I don't blame him. I'd be angry, too. I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can't help the way I feel. I'm just not sure.
And Roger is thinking: They'll probably say it's only a 90-day warranty. That's exactly what they're gonna say, the scumballs.
And Elaine is thinking: Maybe I'm just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I'm sitting right next to a perfectly good person I enjoy being with, a person I truly care about, a person who seems to truly care about me. A person who is in pain because of my self-centred, school-girl romantic fantasy.
And Roger is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I'll give them a damn warranty. I'll take their warranty and shove it right up their...
"Roger," Elaine says aloud.
"What?" says Roger, startled.
"Please don't torture yourself like this" she says, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. "Maybe I should never have . . . I feel so . . ." (She breaks down, sobbing).
"What?" says Roger.
"I'm such a fool," Elaine sobs. "I mean, I know there's no knight. I really know that. It's silly. There's no knight, and there's no horse."
"There's no horse?" says Roger.
"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" Elaine says.
"No!" says Roger, glad to finally know a correct answer.
"It's just that ... it's that I ... I need some time" Elaine says.
(There is a 15 second pause while Roger, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one that he thinks might work.)
"Yes," he says.
(Elaine, deeply moved, touches his hand.)
"Oh, Roger, do you really feel that way?" she says.
"What way?" says Roger.
"That way about time," says Elaine.
"Oh," says Roger. "Yes."
(Elaine turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks.)
"Thank you, Roger," she says.
"Thank you," says Roger.
Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Roger gets back to his place, he opens a bag of potato chips, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes engrossed in a tennis match between two Czechs he never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the car, but he is pretty sure there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures it's better if he doesn't think about it. (This is also Roger's policy regarding world hunger.)
The next day Elaine will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification. They will continue to discuss the subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting bored with it either.
Meanwhile, Roger, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual friend of his and Elaine's, will pause just before serving, frown, and say, "Norm, did Elaine ever own a horse?"
written by W. Bruce Cameron
When I was in high school I used to be terrified of my girlfriend's father, who I believe suspected me of wanting to place my hands on his daughter's chest. He would open the door and immediately affect a good-naturedly murderous expression, holding out a handshake that,when gripped, felt like it could squeeze carbon into diamonds.
Now, years later, it is my turn to be the dad. Remembering how unfairly persecuted I felt when I would pick up my dates, I do my best to make my daughter's suitors feel even worse. My motto: wilt them in the living room and they'll stay wilted all night.
"So," I'll call out jovially. "I see you have your nose pierced. Is that because you're stupid, or did you merely want to APPEAR stupid?"
As a dad, I have some basic rules, which I have carved into two stone tablets that I have on display in my living room.
Rule One: If you pull into my driveway and honk, you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure as heck not picking anything up.
Rule Two: You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.
Rule Three: I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be civil about this so I'll make a compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, In order to assure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric staple gun and fasten your trousers securely in place around your waist.
Rule Four: I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate: when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I WILL kill you.
Rule Five: In order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early."
Rule Six: I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make YOU cry.
Rule Seven: As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process which can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight: The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka zipped up to her adam's apple. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature machine guns are okay. Hockey games are okay.
My daughter claims it embarrasses her to come downstairs and find me attempting to get her date to recite these eight simple rules from memory. I'd be embarrassed too--there are only eight of them, for crying out loud! And, for the record, I did NOT suggest to one of these cretins that I'd have these rules tattooed on his arm if he couldn't remember them. (I checked into it and the cost is prohibitive.) I merely told him that I thought writing the rules on his arm with a ball point might be inadequate--ink washes off-- and that my wood burning set was probably a better alternative.
One time, when my Wife caught me making one of the would-be suitors practice pulling into the driveway, getting out of the car, and going up to knock on the front door (he had violated rule number one, so I figured he needed to run through the drill a few dozen times) she asked me why I was being so hard on the boy. "Don't you remember being that age?" she challenged.
Of course I remember. Why do you think I came up with the eight simple rules?
"You flip a nickel, and heads means you stay with him and tails means you try the next one."
Kally, age 9
"You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming."
Allan, age 10
"No person really decides before they grow up who they're going to marry. God decides it all way before, and you got to find out later who you're stuck with."
Kirsten, age 10
"Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then!"
Cam, age 10
"No age is good to get married at.... You got to be a fool to get married!"
Freddie, age 6
"Married people usually look happy to talk to other people."
Eddie, age 6
"You might have to guess based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids."
Derrick, age 8
"Both don't want no more kids."
Lori, age 8
"Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough."
Lynnette, age 8
"On the first date, they just tell each other lies, and that usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date."
Martin, age 10
"I'd run home and play dead. The next day I would call all the newspapers and make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns."
Craig, age 9
"When they're rich!"
Pam, age 7
"The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn't want to mess with that."
Curt, age 7
"The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and have kids with them.... It's the right thing to do."
Howard, age 8
"I don't know which is better, but I'll tell you one thing ...I'm never going to have sex with my wife. I don't want to be all grossed out!"
Theodore, age 8
"It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need somebody to clean up after them!"
Anita, age 9
"Single is better ... for the simple reason that I wouldn't want to change no diapers... Of course, if I did get married, I'd figure something out. I'd just phone my mother and have her come over for some coffee and diaper-changing."
Kirsten, age 10
"The first thing I'd say to them is: 'Listen up, youngins ... I got something to say to you. Why in the heck do you wanna get married, anyway?'"
Craig, age 9
"A man and a woman promise to go through sickness and illness and diseases together."
Marlon, age 10
"Tell your wife that she looks pretty even if she looks like a truck!"
Ricky, age 7
"If you want to last with your man, you should wear a lot of sexy clothes.... Especially underwear that is red and maybe has a few diamonds on it."
Lori, age 8
"Most men are brainless, so you might have to try more than one to find a live one."
Angie L., age 10
"There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn't there?"
Kelvin, age 8
"You can be sure of one thing - the boys would come chasing after us just the same as they do now!"
Roberta, age 7
Once upon a time, a perfect man and a perfect woman met. After a perfect courtship, they had a perfect wedding. Their life together was, of course, perfect. One snowy, stormy Christmas Eve, this perfect couple was driving their perfect car (a Grand Caravan) along a winding road, when they noticed someone at the side of the road in distress. Being the perfect couple, they stopped to help. There stood Santa Claus with a huge bundle of toys. Not wanting to disappoint any children on the eve of Christmas, the perfect couple loaded Santa and his toys into their vehicle. Soon they were driving along delivering the toys. Unfortunately, the driving conditions deteriorated and the perfect couple and Santa Claus had an accident. Only one of them survived the accident. Who was the survivor?
The perfect woman. She's the only one who really existed in the first place. Everyone knows there is no Santa Claus and there is no such thing as a perfect man.
Women, stop here. Men, keep reading.
So, if there is no perfect man and no Santa Claus, the perfect woman must have been driving. This explains why there was a car accident. By the way, if you're a woman and you're reading this, this brings up another point: women never listen either.
"Men are like a fine wine. They all start out like grapes, and it's our job to stomp on them and keep them in the dark until they mature into something you'd like to have dinner with."
--Female Author Unnamed
Any husband who says, "My wife and I are completely equal partners," is talking about either a law firm or a hand of bridge.
--Bill Cosby
I think men who have a pierced ear are better prepared for marriage. They've experienced pain and bought jewelry.
-- Rita Rudner
Keep your eyes wide open before marriage, half shut afterwards.
-- Benjamin Franklin
My wife dresses to kill. She cooks the same way.
-- Henny Youngman
My wife and I were happy for twenty years. Then we met.
-- Rodney Dangerfield
A good wife always forgives her husband when she's wrong.
-- Milton Berle
I was married by a judge. I should have asked for a jury.
-- George Burns
I bought my wife a new car. She called and said, "There was water in the carburetor." I said, "Where's the car?" She said, "In the lake."
-- Henny Youngman
Never go to bed mad. Stay up and fight.
-- Phyllis Diller
The secret of a happy marriage remains a secret.
-- Henny Youngman
A man and a woman who have never met before find themselves in the same sleeping carriage of a train. After the initial embarrassment, they both manage to get to sleep; the woman on the top bunk, the man on the lower. In the middle of the night the woman leans over and says, "I'm sorry to bother you but I'm awfully cold and I was wondering if you could possibly pass me another blanket."
The man leans out and, with a glint in his eye, says, "I've got a better idea...let's pretend we're married."
"Why not," giggles the woman.
"Good," he replies. "Get your own blanket."
A man was walking along a California beach and stumbled across an old lamp. He picked it up and rubbed it and out popped a genie. The genie said "OK, OK. You released me from the lamp, . blah blah blah..This is the fourth time this month and I'm getting a little sick of these wishes so you can forget about three. You only get one wish!"
The man sat and thought about it for a while and said,"I've always wanted to go to Hawaii, but I'm scared to fly, and I get very seasick. So, could you build me a bridge to Hawaii so I can drive over there to visit?"
The genie laughed and said,"That's impossible. Think of the logistics of that. How would the supports ever reach the bottom of the Pacific? Think of how much concrete...how much steel!! No, think of another wish."
The man said OK and tried to think of a really good wish. Finally he said,"I've been married and divorced four times. My wives always said I don't care and that I'm insensitive. I wish that I could understand women know what they are thinking when they give me the silent treatment, know why they are crying, know what they want when they say 'nothing'...."
The genie said, "You want that bridge two lanes or four?"
Quiz: Are You a Real Man?
Take this test to determine if you are, indeed, a real man.
(Note: "Real men" ALWAYS answer "C")
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DISCLAIMER: These do not necessarily represent my views on any particular issues. They are presented for their humourous content only. If you are offended by any of these, please have your sense of humor examined at the earliest possible opportiunity. Also, I can't take credit for any of these jokes or stories. They're all taken from e-mail. If any of this is (heaven forbid) copyrighted material, please let me know so I can do something about it.
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