The Hub has often tried to escape from me:
This is the result:
Trouble is, the party his generosity paid for lead to this:
And, consequently, this:
Face it, Hub: there’s no escaping me:
A fellow bought a new Mercedes and took it out on the highway for a nice Friday evening drive. The top was down, the breeze was blowing through what was left of his hair and he decided to open her up.
As the needle jumped up to 80mph, he suddenly saw flashing red and blue lights behind him.
“There’s no way they can catch a Mercedes,” he thought to himself, and opened her up further.
The needle hit 90, 100…. Then the reality of the situation hit him.
“What in the heck am I doing?” he thought; and pulled over.
The cop came up to him, took his license without a word and examined it and the car.
“It’s been a long week, this is the end of my shift and I’m tired. I don’t feel like more paperwork, so if you can give me an excuse for your driving that I haven’t heard before, you can go.”
The guy thinks for a second and then says, “Last week my wife ran off with a cop. I was afraid you were trying to give her back!”
“Have a nice weekend,” said the officer.
Thanks to Grannymar for this one.
Aussie Barbecue Season
After long months of cold and winter, we are finally coming up to summer and BBQ season. Therefore it is important to refresh your memory on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking as it’s the only type of cooking a real man will do, probably because there is an element of danger involved.
When a man volunteers to do the Barbecue, usually on a Saturday, the following chain of events are put into motion:
After she woke up, a woman told her husband, “I just dreamed you gave me a diamond necklace for Valentine’s Day. What do you think it means?”
“You’ll know tonight,” he said.
That evening the husband came home with a small package and gave it to his wife. Delighted, she opened it – to find a book entitled “The Meaning of Dreams.”
Margaret Thatcher famously used the Royal ‘we’ when son Mark’s wife gave birth.
We are a grandmother of a different sort; and I accidentally killed the little blighters. About forty of them.
The Hub’s Kribensis gave birth. An Albino Kribensis at that. The Hub likes Kribensis because they care for their young instead of giving them a twelve-hour head start and then eating them. He bought a special spawning net for a nursery, because the other fish don’t respect babydom when there’s the chance of a good meal. The net floats near the top and is attached to the glass by suction pads. The Hub is soppy over his fish.
When I put on the tank light the other morning, two of the Siamese Fighters appeared to be trapped between the tank wall and the net. Fish need to keep swimming to breathe, something to do with the movement and the water creating their oxygen. Here endeth the science lesson.
I pulled the net away and prodded the Fighters to make sure they were still alive. They swam away in a huff. The Hub told me later that they don’t need to move as much as most fish and like to snuggle in that space from time to time.
I was rather pleased with my act of charity. The net frame had come away from the suction pads but it still floated so I didn’t wake the Hub to fix it.
The Hub came downstairs a little later and did his usual fussing over the tanks, talking the baby talk he reserves for his millions of little fishies in his five – yes, five – tanks. He got to the big tank last and exploded with angst-ridden rage: in the
nursery net he found a bloated Siamese Fighter, licking its lips and smiling smugly.
I don’t know why it was so smug – it missed the two baby Kribensis hiding in the corner.
It transpired that the nursery net had somehow come away from the suction pads and sunk just enough for the Siamese Fighter to jump in and participate in some fine dining.
I confess, I blanched. I considered packing my handkerchief and stick and running away to the circus. All that stopped me is that I don’t have a handkerchief big enough for my Malteser stash.
I blanched again. I confessed. I told my sorry story of mistaken heroics to the Hub, and he forgave me. He’s like that. It’s so annoying.
Several days later, I decided it was time to put the kitchen voile back up on the window. I took it down for the Christmas lights and, once washed, stuck it in the ironing cupboard.
The ironing cupboard holds the iron (three of them, for no reason that I can fathom; I’ve no idea where the other two came from), several tons of clean washing (always, no matter how much ironing I do which, okay, isn’t a lot, but even so…), bits of material that we kept from the many, many costumes our kids have worn on school activity days (Obi-Wan Kanobe? Here’s an old brown blanket and a bit of Hub wizardry. Punk rocker? Let us just zip one up), sundry items like the sewing kit (never sewed anything), silver polish (never polished anything) and kitchen roll (never rolled around the kitc…oh, wait…blush).
I picked up the voile; it was rather small. There was another piece, also rather small. I put the two pieces together – talking of pieces, in church on Sunday, our vicar got the biggest laugh of the morning when the congregation read on the overhead projector, The piece of the Lord be always with you. We wondered which piece it was – I put the two pieces together and there was a huge hole in the centre.
I’d no idea what had happened but I knew who to blame. I didn’t want to rollick him when he had just woken up so I left a heart-shaped note and a snippet of voile stuck to the Hub’s mug when I took him his coffee. It read: I love you but you are in BIG trouble.
He was pretty sheepish when he came downstairs because he realised what he’d done. His explanation was that, when the Kribensis gave birth, his little catching net broke, it was late at night, and he needed to repair it quickly so that the other fish wouldn’t eat the babies. He went in the ironing cupboard, found what he thought was a bit of spare material (what? From the time one of the boys played a bride?) and the rest is history…
I haven’t forgiven him yet. He finds that so annoying.
Nigel and Stephen are chatting.
Nigel announces, ‘I think I’m going to divorce my wife, she hasn’t spoken to me in eighteen months.’
Stephen downs his glass of red thoughtfully and responds, ‘Think it over a bit more, Nige; women like that are hard to find.’
From Will & Guy.
From Will & Guy.
A man was walking down the street when he was accosted by a particularly dirty and shabby-looking homeless man who asked him for a couple of dollars for dinner.
The man took out his wallet, extracted ten dollars and asked, “If I give you this money, will you buy some beer with it instead of dinner?”
“No, I had to stop drinking years ago,” the homeless man replied.
“Will you use it to go fishing instead of buying food?” the man asked.
“No, I don’t waste time fishing,” the homeless man said. “I need to spend all my time trying to stay alive.”
“Will you spend this on greens fees at a golf course instead of food?” the man asked.
“Are you NUTS!” replied the homeless man. “I haven’t played golf in 20 years!”
“Well,” said the man, “I’m not going to give you the money. Instead, I’m going to take you home for a terrific dinner cooked by my wife.”
The homeless man was astounded. “Won’t your wife be furious with you for doing that? I know I’m dirty, and I probably smell pretty disgusting.”
The man replied, “That’s okay. It’s important for her to see what a man looks like after he has given up beer, fishing and golf.”
What a shame he ended up with me.
The Hub once said the sweetest thing to me. Actually, he often says sweet things to me, but I’m talking about a specific sweet thing.
A character on tv said that he smiled all day because he had just spent the night with the most beautiful girl in the world.
The Hub said, ‘I know exactly how that feels.’
I bet you all said, ‘Aaahhh!’
I said, ‘Who was she?’
From Will & Guy.
A husband had just finished reading the book Man of the House. He stormed into the kitchen and walked directly up to his wife, pointing a finger in her face.
“From now on,” he said, “I want you to know that I am the man of the house and my word is law. I want you to prepare me a gourmet meal tonight and when I’m finished eating my meal, I expect a scrumptious dessert. Then, after dinner, you are going to draw me my bath so I can relax. And when I’m finished with my bath, guess who’s going to dress me and comb my hair?”
His wife replied, “I’m guessing the funeral director.”
People seem to be having trouble reading the original joke, so here’s a replacement from Tim Vine, via my friend Dave:
So I was in my car, and I was driving along, and my boss rang up, and he said, ‘You’ve been promoted.’ And I swerved.
And then he rang up a second time and said, “You’ve been promoted again.’ And I swerved again.
He rang up a third time and said, ‘You’re managing director.’ And I went into a tree.
And a policeman came up and said, ‘What happened to you?’
And I said ‘I careered off the road.’
Seven Stages of the Head Cold (Marriage Style)
1ST YEAR: The husband says, “Oh, sweetie pie, I’m really worried about those nasty sniffles you have! There’s no telling what that could turn into with all the strep that’s been going around. I’m going to take you right down to the hospital and have you admitted for a couple days of rest. I know the food is lousy there, so I’m going to bring you some takeout. I’ve already arranged it with the head nurse.”
2ND YEAR: “Listen, honey, I don’t like the sound of that cough. I called the doc and he’s going to stop by here and take a look at you. Why don’t you just go on to bed and get the rest you need?”
3RD YEAR: “Maybe you better go lie down, darling. When you feel lousy you need the rest. I’ll bring you something–do we have any canned soup around here?”
4TH YEAR: “No sense wearing yourself out when you’re under the weather. When you finish those dishes and the kids’ baths and get them to bed, you ought to go to bed yourself!”
5TH YEAR: “Why don’t you take a couple aspirin?”
6TH YEAR: “You ought to go gargle or something, instead of sitting around barking like a dog!”
7TH YEAR: “For Pete’s sake, stop sneezing. Are you trying to give me pneumonia? You’d better pick up some tissues while you’re at the store.”
To be fair to the Hub, he is looking after me as if we had only been married three years.
A man went to the doctor complaining of insomnia. The doctor gave him an exam and found nothing physically wrong with him.
“If you ever expect to cure your insomnia,” the doctor said, “you need to stop taking your troubles to bed with you.”
“I’d love to,” said the man, “but my wife refuses to sleep alone.”
And to redress the balance, one from jokes.net.
A woman accompanied her husband to the doctor’s office.
After his checkup, the doctor called the wife into his office alone. He said, “Your husband is suffering from a very severe stress disorder. If you don’t do the following, your husband will surely die: each morning, fix him a healthy breakfast. Be pleasant at all times. For lunch make him a nutritious meal. For dinner prepare an especially nice meal. Don’t burden him with chores. Don’t discuss your problems with him, it will only make his stress worse. No nagging. And most importantly, make love with your husband several times a week. If you can do this for the next six months, I think your husband will completely regain his health.”
On the way home, the husband asked his wife, “What did the doctor say?”
“He said you’re going to die,” she replied.
Thanks to Viveka for letting me use this one.
Sven and Lena are driving along a highway doing sixty mph, Lena behind the wheel. Sven suddenly looks over at her and says, “Honey, I know we’ve been married for twenty five years, but I want a divorce.”
Lena says nothing but slowly increases speed to seventy mph.
Sven says, “I don’t want you to try to talk me out of it, because I’ve been having an affair with your best friend, and she’s a better lover than you are.”
Lena stays quiet but speeds up as her anger increases.
“I want the house,” Sven insists, pressing his luck. Lena speeds up to eighty mph.
Sven says, “I want the car, too,” but Lena just drives faster and faster.
By now she’s up to ninety mph. “All right,” Sven says, “I want the bank accounts, and all the credit cards, too.”
Lena slowly starts to veer toward a bridge.
This makes Sven a bit nervous, so he says, “Isn’t there anything you want?”
Lena says, “No, I’ve got everything I need.”
“Oh, really,” Sven says, “so what have you got?”
Right before they slam into the wall at a hundred mph, Lena smiles and says, “The airbag.”
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