Two guys were discussing popular family trends on sex, marriage, and
values. Stu said, "I didn't sleep with my wife before we got married, did you?" Leroy replied, "I'm not sure, What was her maiden name?"
An American is having breakfast one morning (coffee, croissants,
bread, butter and jam) when a Frenchman, chewing gum, sits down next to him. The American ignores the Frenchman who,
nevertheless, starts a conversation.
French man: "You American folk eat the whole bread??"
American (in a bad mood): "Of course."
French: (after blowing a huge bubble) "We don't. In France, we only eat what's inside. The crusts we collect in a container,
recycle it, transform them into croissants and sell them to the states." The Frenchman has a smirk on his face. The American
listens in silence.
The Frenchman persists: "Do you eat jelly with the bread??"
American: "Of Course."
Frenchman: (cracking his gum between his teeth and chuckling).
"We don't. In France we eat fresh fruit for breakfast, then we put all the peels, seeds, and leftovers in containers, recycle
them, transform them into jam and sell the jam to the states."
The American then asks: "Do you have sex in France?"
Frenchman: "Why of course we do", he says with a big smirk.
American: "And what do you do with the condoms once you've used them?"
Frenchman: "We throw them away, of course."
American: "We don't. In America, we put them in a container, recycle them, melt them down into chewing gum and sell them to
France."
Bob and his friend are sitting on front porch admiring the
sunset. Bob has a proud smile on his face when he says, "You know, I don't think there's anyone on this planet I don't know."
His friend looks at him, "What? You're kidding!"
Bob says, "No. I think I know just about everybody."
Bob's friend says, "I bet you don't know the governor."
"George? Yeah, I know ol' George, as a matter of fact, I'm having
dinner with him Tuesday. Why don't you come along?" They show up at the governor's mansion Tuesday, Governor Bush
opens up the door himself. "Hey, Bob! How are ya doin'? Come on in!"
Bob's friend is quite impressed, but still not convinced Bob knows everybody. A few days later he tells Bob. "I bet you don't
know Bruce Springsteen."
"Bruce? Sure I know the Boss! We used to hang out together in
Jersey!"
"Bob, I don't believe you. I think you're lying to me."
"No, really," Bob responds, "In fact, he's putting on a show tomorrow night. Lets go."
Bob and his friend make their way up to front row. Bruce Springsteen looks down and says, "I'd like to dedicate this next
song to my good friend Bob here."
The friend is getting totally freaked by now. He is determined to
find someone Bob doesn't know. A couple of weeks later, Bob is once again sitting on the porch with that proud smile on his
face, when his friend pulls up in the driveway, jumps out of the car and says, "Aha! You don't know the Pope!"
"The Pope? Sure I know ol' John Paul!"
"You're lyin', Bob! I don't believe you!"
"I'll prove it to you," Bob says.
So they fly over to the Vatican. Bob's friend stands near the
front of the crowd waiting for the Pope to come out on the balcony. Soon the Pope appears before the thousands of people in
the crowd. Sure enough, right behind him comes Bob. Standing next to the Pope and waving at the crowds. After a bit Bob looks down
and sees his friend passed out on the ground. He runs down to the street to his friend and says, "Hey, you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay. I was standing here in shock when all of a sudden a guy leans towards me and says, 'Hey, who's that standing
next to Bob?'"
A CHINESE went to a bar in Hawaii to have some drinks.
At the counter, he sat next to a famous Hollywood producer, Steven Spielberg, who was
already ahead by a quart of alcohol.
After a round of beer the Chinese sensed that the famous producer was
glaring at him.
Suddenly, in a flash the Chinese crashed down from his stool, felled by a vicious hook from the producer. Picking himself up,
he yelled: "What the hell was that for?"
The producer ranted: "That's for the bombing of Pearl Harbour, you
##@@!!##! My dad perished in that bombing!" "I am not Japanese, you stupid nincompoop! I am a Chinese!"
"Yeah yeah yeah . . . Japanese, Burmese, Chinese...you are all the
same."
Regaining his composure, the Chinese took his seat and ordered a double
from the bartender. A few seconds later, the Chinese turned around and delivered
a deadly snake fist to the producer, sending him flat to the floor.
"What was that for?!!", exclaimed the producer. "That's for the sinking of the TITANIC!
I had ancestors on that ship!", the Chinese replied. "You ignorant chink! The TITANIC was sunk by an iceberg!", shouted the
producer.
"Yeah yeah yeah . . . Iceberg, Spielberg, Carlsberg...you are all the
same!"
Fu, Bu and Chu immigrated to
the USA from China. They decided to become American citizens, and "Americanize"
their names. Bu, called himself "Buck." Chu called himself
"Chuck." Fu decided to return to China
Dave works hard at the plant and spends most evenings bowling or playing basketball at
the gym. His wife thinks he is pushing himself too hard, so for his birthday she takes him
to a local strip club. The doorman at the club greets them and says, "Hey, Dave, how
ya doin'?" His wife is puzzled and asks if he's been to this club before. "Oh
no," says Dave. "He's on my bowling team." When they are seated, a waitress
asks Dave if he'd like his usual Budweiser. His wife is becoming uncomfortable and says,
"You must come here a lot for that woman to know you drink Budweiser". "No,
honey, she's in the Ladies Bowling League. We share lanes with them." A stripper
comes over to their table and throws her arms around Dave. "Hi Davey," she says,
"Want your usual table dance?" Dave's wife, now furious, grabs her purse and
storms out of the club. Dave follows and spots her getting into a cab. Before she
can slam the door, he jumps in beside her and she starts screaming at him. The cabby turns
his head and says, "Looks like you picked up a real bitch tonight, Dave."
An artist asked the gallery owner if there had been any interest in his paintings on
display at that time. "I have good news and bad news," the owner replied.
"The good news is that a gentleman enquired about your work and wondered if it would
appreciate in value after your death. When I told him it would, he bought all 15 of your
paintings." "That's wonderful!" the artist exclaimed. "What's the bad
news?" "The guy was your doctor."
MY HUSBAND and I moved to a staunchly conservative suburb,
where as a free-lance writer I was regarded with some disdain. But I thought I had finally
broken a barrier when the home and school association asked me to speak on a career-day
panel. In spite of a heavy travel schedule, I arrived ten minutes early and took my place
beside the two other speakers, a scientist and a stockbroker, both men. The
coordinator
asked me if I would give my presentation last, and for a moment I felt honored to think I
had star billing. She might have spared me her reasoning: "After all, the men have to
get back to work."
MY WIFE shared a hospital elevator with an employee who was
dressed in the traditional "whites" and whose charge was a complex-looking piece
of equipment. It was all chrome with a myriad of handles, bars, valves, gauges, dials and
inverted bottles. "Gee," my wife said, "I would hate to be hooked up to
that machine." "So would I," the attendant replied. "This is a rug
shampooer."
A CUSTOMER in my dry-cleaning store was annoyed when his suit
wasn't ready, so I said I'd deliver it after hours. Later, as I was ringing his doorbell,
the paper boy came to collect. The man answered the door, and I heard his wife ask,
"Who's that at the door?" He answered, "The gentlemen of the press are
here."
BECAUSE of all the flak now directed at the petroleum
industry, my brother-in-law, vice president of a major oil corporation, is low-key about
what he does for a living. On a recent plane flight, though, he confided to a
seat mate,
"I work for an oil company." "I'm with the Internal Revenue
Service," the other passenger replied. "I know exactly how you feel."
NEWCOMERS to Canada's customs, cuisine and language, my
neighbours quickly adopted pizza as their favorite food. A friend gave Jessica written
instructions on how to make it, and her delighted husband cautioned her to follow the
recipe exactly. Jessica assembled all the ingredients and proceeded to make the
pizza. The final sentence read: "Just throw it in the oven." She did - and spent
the afternoon cleaning up the mess.
AFTER I invited my friend Julie to stay for dinner she called
home to let her parents know. The phone rang many times and, just as she was about to hang
up, her absent minded father answered. "Hi, it's Julie," she said. Her father
told her to hold on. She could hear him put the phone down and walk away.
"Julie," he called, "it's for you." Then she heard a door close and
listened to his footsteps return. Julie, realizing her father had misunderstood, called
into the receiver, "Dad! Dad! Please pick up the phone!"
Finally he heard her and picked up the phone again. "Oh, sorry. You have it?"
And then added, "Don't be too long. Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes,"
and hung up.
MOST of my baby daughter's wardrobe consisted of
hand-me-downs from an older cousin. Since he was a boy, everything she wore was blue.
At the supermarket, other shoppers repeatedly complimented me on my fine-looking
son. Eventually I gave up correcting them and began replying, "Yes he is."
Then one day I realized that I wasn't the only mother with this problem. As I
pushed my cart down the aisle, I saw what I assumed was a baby boy. A closer look
revealed my mistake. On the back of the baby's blue jacket was a message stitched in
small pink letters. It read: "Underneath my hand-me-downs, I'm every inch a
woman."
I CAME across a letter that had been written to me 12 years
earlier while I was in college. I still fondly remembered the sender - a Shakespeare
- quoting, truth - seeking young man - and wrote to his parents, asking where
I could contact him. My letter was returned promptly, with this note scrawled across
the bottom: "Our son went on to law school and is a successful attorney. He is
active politically, unmarried and, believe it or not, lives at home. PLEASE COME GET
HIM!"
ONE stormy night a friend and I were driving home from
college and ran out of gas. After shivering in the cold for what seemed like an eternity,
we finally got a lift to a gas station. We explained our plight and asked for a can of
gasoline. As we were paying, the attendant announced, "That'll be an extra five
dollars for deposit on the can." Angered by his lack of trust, we grudgingly
paid, then headed for the door, dreading the walk to the car. Peering outside at the
storm, the attendant mused, "Ya know, a fellow shouldn't be out in weather like
this." With that, he turned to us and pulled out his keys. "Here," he said,
"take my car."
MY MOTHER, Ruby, and her sister Mary look very much alike.
One day my aunt, who worked in a large department store, was on her way up to the
cafeteria. She used the same familiar route, up two flights of escalators, to the seventh
floor. She turned to her right, saw my mother and said, "Ruby, how nice of you to
meet me for lunch." Only after she spoke did she realize, along with others around
her, that she was talking to her own image, reflected in a newly installed full-length
mirror.
THE open friendliness of Newfoundlanders was reaffirmed when
my friend related this experience: He and his wife went to visit some relatives they
hadn't seen for several years. The mother greeted them enthusiastically at the door,
saying, "Oh! Hello! Come on in! Won't ye have a cup o'tea?" They consented, and
after getting them settled she asked, "Now, who be ye?"
APPROACHING the local school for choir practice one evening,
we noticed a large cardboard box in the path where someone might fall over it. Being a
public-spirited person, my companion strode forward to move it out of the way. No sooner
had he picked it up and taken a step forward than he disappeared. He had fallen into
a deep hole which another public spirited person had covered, for safety, with a
cardboard box,
AT THE end of a tiring day of work, I was dreading the few
kilometers I had to walk home. After a couple of blocks I impulsively decided to
hitchhike. An elderly couple pulled over to the curb and smiling happily, I opened the
rear door, got in and thanked them for stopping. They looked at each other, and the man
returned my smile and asked where I lived. They then drove me straight home. When I asked
if they lived nearby, the woman replied, "No, dear, we were home when you got in the
car."
I HAVE a long Polish name and am accustomed to spelling it
out over the phone. Recently, I had to speak with an official at the Polish consulate, and
I began to spell my last name. The Official interrupted me: "I can spell Lewandowski!
How do you spell Sharon?"
A CAR pool whose normal complement was five passengers had
just four while one was on vacation. On the day my husband drove, he carried on an
animated conversation about bridge with the man beside him. The other two passengers sat
silent in the rear seat. Out of habit, my husband stopped in front of the house of the
absent passenger, but continued his bridge conversation while waiting for the absent
member to alight. The two passengers in the rear seat were reluctant to interrupt. The
talking continued, and still the car did not move. Finally, one of the passengers in
the back opened the car door and, after a moment, closed it. My husband put the car
in gear and continued up the street to the next drop-off point, blissfully unaware of what
had happened, and still talking about bridge.
ONE very cold winter day, a man, carrying several parcels,
slipped on the ice-covered sidewalk, scattering eye glasses and packages on the ground.
Trying to help, I began to pick up the bags as the man struggled, unhurt, to his feet.
However, because of the treacherous footing, I slipped, too, and landed with a sickening
crunch on his eyeglasses.
Apologetically promising to reimburse him, I continued to gather the
remaining bags. Although he refused further assistance, I persisted, and once again
lost my balance. This time I managed to remain upright - with one booted foot planted
squarely on a record album.
Clearly exercising a great deal of control, the man asked in carefully
modulated tones, "Tell me, miss - have you ever considered becoming apathetic?"
WITH a baby in a stroller, and two tots in tow, a young
Japanese woman stepped into a Toronto subway train and sat down across the aisle from me.
She smilingly watched the baby as one of his big toes disappeared in his tiny mouth and
patiently listened while one of the youngsters talked to her in a hushed voice. The second
youngster, perhaps four or five years old, appeared to be playing with a piece of paper.
Once or twice he leaned over, held out his work, and the woman lovingly offered him soft
words of advice. Soon he uttered a cry of triumph and handed the woman the object of
his labor. She looked at it, nodded approval and gently deposited the tiny thing on the
window ledge behind her seat. Then the train came to a stop and they were gone.
Curious, I sidled over and lifted the little thing. It was a tiny bird - its beak, its
wings, its tail wrought in delightful detail - and it was with awe - that I gazed at it,
so skillfully fashioned by a child's hand out of a lowly scrap of a subway transfer.
Resisting the temptation to keep it, I gingerly set my find back on the ledge, perhaps to
feed someone else's soul - as it had done mine.
Ghandi walked barefoot everywhere, to the point that his
feet became quite thick and hard. Even when he wasn't on a hunger strike, he did not eat
much and became quite thin and frail. He also was quite a spiritual person. Furthermore,
due to his diet, he ended up with very bad breath. He became known as a super-calloused
fragile mystic plagued with halitosis.