Text 2191, 134 rader
Skriven 2005-06-23 02:41:54 av Greg Sears (1:153/307)
     Kommentar till en text av George Pope
Ärende: Re: F unny
==================
 GS> "That's nothing", said the other husband. "Mine came home with a
   > card stuck to her ass that said, FROM ALL OF US AT THE FIRE STATION,
   > WE'LL NEVER FORGET YOU."

Funny

 -=[21-Jun-2005 11:12, George Pope replied IN a message to GREG SEARS]=-

 GP> Okay, you must be receiving BBWs with a Sense of Humor already cuz
   > the last 3 jokes I've seen from you were just posted in that yahoo
   > group just this week!

  G-day George Pope, I got on board yesterday after getting the address!
                     Read the first seven e-mails today on line, so guess
                     there are a few thousnad readers signed up! '-)))


 GP>      Väâëä II
 GP>      --------

 GP>      áâIDGä
 GP>      ------

 GP>      VERSE II
 GP>      --------

 GP>      BRIDGE
 GP>      ------

Funny, 21-Jun-2005 11:12, George Pope entered two stories twice? Go figure
                          George Pope

> OBJoke: for our Moderator and all-round friend/servant

Back in the good old days, multitasking meant talking on the phone while
shaving your legs in the tub.  Nowadays, it means closing a million-
dollar deal while you're getting your tubes tied.

Sweetie and I are propped up in front of the bathroom mirror brushing our
teeth.  It's the first thing we do every morning and the last thing we do
every night.

It wasn't always this way.  You can tell the age of a relationship by the
emphasis put on dental hygiene.

"Whee-tie," I say, then spit, "are we getting up or going to bed?"

Staring at each other, we turn to the window to see if the sun is rising
or setting.

When it's cloudy we have to turn on the TV to figure out if it's dusk or
dawn.  During Hurricane Floyd we went three days without sleep before we
figured out Diane Sawyer is now doing the morning show.

When Sweetie and I first met, time stood still.  Or maybe it just seems
that way when you're parked.  Regardless, now we're stuck in the fast
lane without an off-ramp.

"OK," Sweetie calls out as he showers, shaves and shampoos, "tell me
again what day it is."

"Thursday," I say, handing him a towel with one hand while I brush my
hair with the other.

"Are you sure?"

Throwing my wrist in the air, I check my Casio, which not only gives the
time, date and day of the week, but a readout of my pulse.  I figure, at
the rate I'm going, my heart will stop long before the rest of me skids
to a halt.

"Where did the week go?" Sweetie sighs as he grinds coffee with one hand
and pours a bowl of LIFE cereal with the other.

"I have no idea," I say as I toss fish food into the cat dish and scoop
Friskies into the fish bowl, "but I sure wish it had taken us with it."

And in the midst of all this, the phone starts ringing, the fax starts
faxing, and I get a message on my computer that says, "YOU'VE GOT MAIL."

"You're driving yourself to the grave!" Dad declares, in his ever-upbeat
way.

This from the man who worked a 72-hour week while I was growing up.
Other than the conception, he pretty much missed the first 30 years of my
life.

"Dad, can I put you on hold?" I ask, holding the phone with my ear so I
can dust the desk while I check my e-mail.  "I have another call."

"If you don't cool it," Dad steams, when I put him back on line, "you're
going to overheat and crack your block."

Dad worked for Ford Motor Co. for 30 years.  For him, life is a Fairlane.

"Oh, Daddy," I say with a roll of the eyes, "other than the fact that
this morning I put shaving cream on my toothbrush and flossed my toe jam,
I'm doing just fine."

"Just remember," Dad warns, "when it comes to resale value, it's not the
model -- it's the mileage."

"What are you doing?" Sweetie asks as I lift the coffee cup out of his
hand and place it on the counter.

You have to be very careful in a relationship, or one day you'll wake up
and find it's running on empty.

"Sweetie," I say as I loosen his tie, "I'm turning back my speedometer."

Copyright 1999 P.S. Wall.  All rights reserved.


> OBJoke: for Mr. <+]::-) ("Cyberpope")

During lunch, an attractive young businesswoman commented to
another:

       "My life is all math.
        I am trying to add to my income,
        subtract from my weight,
        divide my time,
        and avoid multiplying."



... >             ooo
... >            c| |
... >   __m_00_m__|_|__  Cheers, I C E-man

... >                     --spying with free beer at the wall for ALL.

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