A man told his doctor he wasn’t able to do all the things around the house like he used to.
When the examination was complete, he said “Now Doc, tell me in plain English what is wrong with me.”
“Well in plain English,” the doctor replied, “you’re just lazy.”
“Okay,” said the man. “Now give me the medical term so I can tell my wife.”
I lay on my back in the water, floating serenely underneath the cotton wooled blue sky. On my stomach lay the remnants of a delicious fresh water crab I had had just crushed with a stone and eaten on the spot. I considered brushing it off but really couldn’t be bothered – the moment was too perfect.
A harsh cry broke the stillness, “Heeeeenry!!!”
It was her, the otter woman, the woman I’d left my faithful wife for, the one I’d eloped with, the one I’d married, and now the one I was enslaved to.
“Heeeeeenry, why the hell haven’t you taken out the garbage again??”
My wife sat down on the couch next to me as I was flipping channels.
She asked, ‘What’s on TV?’
I said, ‘Dust.’
And then the fight started…
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My wife and I are watching “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire” while we were in bed.
I turned to her and said, “Do you want to have sex?”
“No,” she answered.
I then said, “Is that your final answer?”
She didn’t even look at me this time, simply saying, “Yes.”
So I said, “Then I’d like to phone a friend.”
And then the fight started….
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Saturday morning I got up early, quietly dressed, made my lunch, grabbed the dog, and slipped quietly into the garage. I hooked up the boat up to the truck, and proceeded to back out into a torrential downpour. The wind was blowing 50 mph, so I pulled back into the garage, turned on the radio, and discovered that the weather would be bad all day.
I went back into the house, quietly undressed, and slipped back into bed. I cuddled up to my wife’s back, now with a different anticipation, and whispered, “The weather out there is terrible.”
My loving wife of 10 years replied, “Can you believe my stupid husband is out fishing in that?”
And that’s how the fight started…
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I rear-ended a car this morning. So, there we were alongside the road and slowly the other driver got out of his car. You know how sometimes you just get soooo stressed and little things just seem funny? Yeah, well I couldn’t believe it…. He was a DWARF!!!
He stormed over to my car, looked up at me, and shouted, “I AM NOT HAPPY !!!”
So, I looked down at him and said, “Well, then which one are you?”
And then the fight started…..
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My wife was hinting about what she wanted for our upcoming anniversary.
She said, ‘I want something shiny that goes from 0 to 150 in about 3 seconds.’
I bought her some bathroom scales.
And then the fight started…
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When I got home last night, my wife demanded that I take her someplace expensive… so, I took her to a gas station.
And then the fight started…
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After retiring, I went to the Social Security office to apply for Social Security. The woman behind the counter asked me for my driver’s license to verify my age. I looked in my pockets and realized I had left my wallet at home. I told the woman that I was very sorry, but I would have to go home and come back later.
The woman said, ‘Unbutton your shirt’. So I opened my shirt revealing my curly silver hair. She said, ‘That silver hair on your chest is proof enough for me’ and she processed my Social Security application. When I got home, I excitedly told my wife about my experience at the Social Security office.
She said, ‘You should have dropped your pants. You might have gotten disability, too.’
And then the fight started….
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My wife and I were sitting at a table at my high school reunion, and I kept staring at a drunken lady swigging her drink as she sat alone at a nearby table.
My wife asked, ‘Do you know her?’
‘Yes,’ I sighed, ‘She’s my old girlfriend. I understand she took to drinking right after we split up those many years ago, and I hear she hasn’t been sober since.’
‘My God!’ says my wife, ‘who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?’
And then the fight started…
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I took my wife to a restaurant. The waiter, for some reason, took my order first.
“I’ll have the strip steak, medium rare, please.”
He said, “Aren’t you worried about the mad cow?””
Nah, she can order for herself.”
And then the fight started…
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A woman is standing nude, looking in the bedroom mirror. She is not happy with what she sees and says to her husband, ‘I feel horrible; I look old, fat and ugly.
I really need you to pay me a compliment.’
The husband replies, ‘Your eyesight’s damn near perfect.’
And then the fight started…..
I am a firm believer that the family who prays together stays together. I know its a corny saying, but it is true, so I encourage my children to pray before they go to bed, at mealtimes, and whenever there is a need.
Angelica however does not want to pray; I don’t what it is, but try as we will she refuses point blank to pray. My wife thought she might be possessed but I told her not to be silly, that this house was under the protection of the Almighty.
Then today, at Thanksgiving, with all the extended family gathered around, she astonishingly began to say grace: “Dear Lord, thank you for the food you give us, and the nice things you give us, and Lord, please provide clothes for the children in Africa, and all those naked ladies on Daddy’s computer.”
It was clear that Paddy was out of sorts, and his work mates were worried – his wife had left him a month ago, and though at first he had seemed to take it OK, now he seemed distracted. The lift climbed slowly to the 183rd floor of the super skyscraper they were helping to construct, arriving eventually and opening onto a windswept landscape of perilous girders and vast drops to ground below. Paddy did not speak but walked off on his own to a lone girder that strutted out into the abyss. They stood and watched, concerned; “Yawright, Paddy, my man?” one cried, the icy wind carrying his words away.
Paddy reached the end of the girder, stood a while surveying the city below, sprawling yet so small and insignificant, the pain of his wrecked marriage ever present but suppressed. He knelt down, slowly, the pain in his knees resonating with the ache in his heart, and reached into his pocked to pull out a wrench to tighten the bolt he’d forgotten to fasten properly the day before.
I watched the man out of the corner of my eye: dark hair, sinister eyebrows, a Lenin style beard and tightly clutched suitcase. I wondered about its contents, that little suitcase. Could this be a Russian spy, and assassin, or perhaps a mad scientist with his newly invented super virus in dry frost-encased vials? I looked at my wife anxiously, but she was oblivious to the danger that lurked scarcely 5 feet away. I nudged her and glanced pointedly at the man, my expression conveying the terror I felt, and was glad to see that she sensed and shared my concern. The man looked up, saw us watching, but hurriedly averted his eyes, I suppose for fear of giving his game away, and then, slowly, opened his suitcase, and took out what looked like a cheese sandwich.
We have at the bottom of our little garden a wooden shed. It sits nestled between two gigantic oak trees that whilst charming at first are the bane of my life, killing the lawn, pummelling us with summer acorns, drowning us with autumn leaves, scaring us with winter tendril shadows on the walls. The shed has two little windows: narrow, condemning eyes that look at me every time I go to the kitchen to get a beer. My tools are in there and should be used to embark on some fabulous DIY activities – this would please my wife no end – but I know my limits, and DIY can be a dangerous affair for someone with limits. So it sits there, alone, angry, wasted, while I sit here typing, sipping a beer and failing yet again to be erudite. And to use up all six sentences.
In the bed, my dearest wife of many beautiful years, dying in a sea of white linen and comatose beeping machines.
On the table, a garden of flowers from friends and family, glorious in fragrant colour, signs of the life which has been cruelly wrenched from her.
In the waste bin, a pathetic get well card from someone inclined to take a last little drink before driving home.
In my hands, a form and a pen.
In my mind, a decision.
In my heart, sorrow beyond further words.
She sat opposite me, looking out the train window, an ancient Celtic beauty about her that spoke of deep, unspoken sorrow and wild heather. I didn’t like to stare because it felt slightly disloyal to my dear wife, but I could not help looking at her: flowing auburn hair, milky skin daubed with the rouge of Spring, emerald eyes that sparkled like a thousand stars. She sighed deeply and I noticed a tear forming in her left eye, pausing a while before it descended the prettiest face I’ve seen in a long time. As she wiped the tear away our eyes met, and joined, for an instant, a connecting of souls. I smiled and she smiled. I scarcely noticed my right hand moving to cover my wedding ring.
A man walks into Ann Summers to purchase some see-through lingerie for his wife.
He is shown several possibilities that range from £50 to £150 in price, the more see-through, the higher the price. He opts for the sheerest item, pays the £150 and takes the lingerie home.
He presents it to his wife and asks her to go upstairs, put it on and model it for him.
Upstairs the wife thinks ‘I have an idea. It’s so see-through that it might as well be nothing.
I won’t put it on – do the modelling naked – return it tomorrow and get a £150 refund and keep the money for myself’.
So she appears naked at the top of the stairs and strikes a pose.
The husband says ‘Stone me, it wasn’t that creased in the shop’.
His funeral is this Thursday.
