I’ll Never Catch Up

chevy chase, ass (Photo credit: “Cowboy” Ben Alman) Kind of what I’m doing, without the retired movie star

My week last week:

• Dog walks every day, many long
• Baking mince pies for vulnerable people (sneaking a few to four freezing workmen who heckled me on my walks between the vicarage oven and church)
• Doctor’s
• Creative Writing class
• Studiously ignoring my homework
• Welcoming home Tory Boy with ALL of his stuff
• Finding room for all of Tory Boy’s stuff
• Cooking 
• Cleaning
• Catching up with ironing
• Yawning
• Recuperating all Thursday on the couch
• Grocery shopping (huge)
• Reading old jokes
• Christmas shopping (a bit)
• Helping a friend with something
• Church
• Stockport Writers’ Christmas do (playing word games – great nerdy fun)
• Coming down with a stonking head cold

So that was my week, with the dull bits left out.

Sorry to have abandoned you.  Again.

I’ll be honest, it’s going to get worse before it gets better.

 

Joke 991

Map of Bournemouth Beach and Poole Bay, Dorset (Photo credit: Alwyn Ladell)

-My wife went on a sailing course in Poole

-In Dorset?

-Yes, she’d recommend it to anyone.

*

From ybw.com

From the archive:

If Men Ruled the World…

Any fake phone number a girl gave you would automatically forward your call to her real number.

Nodding and looking at your watch would be deemed an acceptable response to “I love you.”

Hallmark would make “Sorry, what was your name again?” cards.

When your girlfriend really needed to talk to you during the game, she’d appear in a little box in the corner of the screen during a time-out.

Breaking up would be a lot easier. A smack to the bum and a “Nice hustle, you’ll get ‘em next time” would pretty much do it.

Birth control would come in ale or lager.

Each year, your raise would be pegged to the fortunes of the football team of your choice.

The funniest guy in the office would get to be CEO.

“Sorry I’m late, but I got really drunk last night” would be an acceptable excuse for tardiness.

Tanks would be easier to rent.

Garbage would take itself out.

Instead of beer belly, you’d get “beer biceps.”

Instead of an expensive engagement ring, you could present your wife-to-be with a giant foam hand that said, “You’re #1!”

Valentine’s Day would be moved to February 29th so it would only occur in leap years.

“Cops” would be broadcast live, and you could phone in advice to the pursuing cops.

The only show opposite “Monday Night Football” would be “Monday Night Football From A Different Camera Angle.”

Two men walk into a building.

You’d think at least one of them would have seen it.

There was an opening in the CIA for an assassin. These highly classified positions are extremely difficult to fill, requiring an extensive background check, training, and testing before candidates are even considered for the position. After reviewing several applicants and completing all the checks and training, the field was narrowed to the three most promising candidates. The day came for the final test which would determine which of the equally qualified candidates, would get the job.

The final candidates were two men and one woman. The agents administering the test took the first candidate, a man, down a corridor to a closed door and handed him a gun saying, “We must be completely assured that you will complete your assignments and follow instructions regardless of the circumstances. Inside this room you will find your wife, seated in a chair. Take this gun and kill her.” The man, shocked, said, “You can’t be serious! I could never kill my wife.” The CIA agent said, “Well, then, you’re obviously not the man for the job. Take your wife and go home.”

They brought the next candidate in, the other man, and repeated the instructions. This man took the gun, walked into the room and closed the door. However, after five minutes of silence, the door opened and the man handed the CIA agent the gun, saying, “I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill my wife. I tried to pull the trigger but I just couldn’t do it.” The CIA man said, “Well, then, you’re obviously not the man for the job. Take your wife and go home.”

Then they brought the woman down the corridor to the closed door, handed her a gun, and said, “We must be completely assured that you will complete your assignments and follow instructions regardless of the circumstances. Inside this room you will find your husband, seated in a chair. Take this gun and kill him.” The woman took the gun, walked into the room, and before the door closed all the way, the CIA agents heard the gun start firing. One shot after another, for thirteen shots, the noise continued. Then all hell broke loose. For the next several minutes, the men heard screaming, cursing, furniture crashing and banging on the walls; then suddenly, silence. The door opened slowly and there stood the woman. She wiped the sweat from her brow and said, “You guys didn’t tell me the gun was loaded with blanks! I had to beat him to death with the chair!”