Tag Archives: Jokes

The One That Got Away (Not For Arachnophobes)

7 Feb
Spiderman In Technicolor

Image by Cayusa via Flickr

 

The scene: I was living in South Africa; visiting a friend; our husbands were working; neither of us had children then, but Julie did have a little dog called Pepi. 

Julie and I had eaten some of her scrummy food; had a good natter; drunk a little wine.  We sat together on her couch, watching a bit of tv.  The whole night, Pepi had been sniffing and scratching under and around the couch.

I went to the loo.  When I came back, Julie had moved the couch to see what Pepi was after – she said.  I saw the massive joke spider on the floor and laughed.  Pepi was sniffing at it. 

Julie: Why are you laughing?

Me: That’s a rubbish trick spider.

Julie: It’s real!

Me (laughing): Yeah, right.

Julie: It’s real; I swear. 

And to prove it, she took a telephone directory and threw it at the ‘spider’.  The book landed on the floor next to it and the ‘whump!’ of air made it fly up and land again, like a hairy frog.  It was obviously plastic.  Laughing really hard at Julie’s feeble attempt to scare me, I walked up to the spider and leaned down to pick it up, and that’s when it ran straight at me.

Julie screamed; I screamed; Pepi screamed; and all three of us jumped up onto the chairs, fidgeting and yelling like two women and a dog terrified of the biggest spider we’d ever seen.

Fortunately for us it was a Red Roman and they like to follow shadows, so it ran under the bottom of the front door and into the night.  We stayed on those couches for an hour; just to be sure.  Can you blame us?  Though they’re not poisonous, they eat mice.  We were skinny girls back then; you can’t be too careful.

A Favourite Joke

6 Feb

A man walks into a bar and says, ‘Ow!’

Bits

27 Jan


A Freegler offered a rule plaque for a teenager’s bedroom door; it was the usual stuff but these caught my eye:

  • GROWN UPS ARE ALLOWED WHEN BRINGING REFRESHMENTS.
  • GROWN UPS PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IS A NAG FREE ZONE.

 

The best excuse EVER for not vacuuming the house comes courtesy of my cousin’s wife’s Facebook Status; the lovely Sandrine, who is now my idol:

I really should be hoovering, but I wouldn’t want to increase my carbon footprint, now would I ?

She swears she’s not lazy, but a closet environmentalist.  I believe her.

A man and a woman who have never met before find themselves in the same sleeping carriage of a train. After the initial embarrassment, they both manage to get to sleep; the woman on the top bunk, the man on the lower. 
In the middle of the night the woman leans over and says, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m awfully cold and I was wondering if you could possibly pass me another blanket.” 
The man leans out and with a glint in his eye said “I’ve got a better idea … let’s pretend we’re married.” 
“Why not,” giggles the woman. 
“Good,” he replies. “Get your own blanket.” 

Read more:  http://www.ajokeaday.com/Clasificacion.asp?ID=48#ixzz1CDnliCu3

 

If you want to read an almost true story about a mixed marriage, go to my other blog, South Africa – A Love/Hate Story

Laughing At Housewives

15 Aug

It occurs to me that, despite the name of this blog, I have never told any housewife jokes; being a joke as a housewife myself, I never really saw the need. On your behalf, however, I abandoned my cleaning duties and spent the day trawling the net and you know what? People are mean. Or dirty. All of the jokes were either of the lover in a cupboard variety or had a horrible husband and bitchy wife. I did find one that isn’t really a joke and because by now I am a desperate housewife and need to publish today’s post, here goes (don’t blame be if it’s not funny; I do my bit):

Prison vs Being a Housewife (I won’t cite any one source because I read lots of versions of this on lots of sites):

In prison, you get three square meals a day.

At home, you cook three square meals a day and get to clean up afterwards.


In prison, they take you everywhere you need to go.

At home, you take everybody else where they need to go.


In prison, if you have visitors, all you do is go to a room, sit, talk and then say good-bye when you are ready or your time is up.

At home, you get to clean for days in advance and then cook and clean up after your guests and hope that they will one day leave.

In prison, you can spend your free time writing letters or just hang out in your own space all day.

At home, you get to clean your space and everyone else’s space, too, and what the heck is free time again?

In prison, you get your own personal toilet.

At home, you have to hold the bathroom door shut to stop everyone standing over you demanding to know how long till you’re done so you can do/find/make/organise something for them.

In prison, there are no screaming or whining children or spouses asking you to do something else for them, or screaming at you because you didn’t.

At home….stop me when I get to the downside of jail, will ya?

Somebody’s Pulling My Leg

5 Aug

You may remember my post of the day before yesterday; if you don’t, you’ll need to refresh your memory here to make sense of today’s post.

I received the following email in response (and thanks also to Jim, for his excellent suggestion in the comments section):

Hi
My friend informed me that you may have lost a wooden leg?  If this is to be true then you may be in luck.
Please see the below picture.  I came across this wooden leg whilst shopping in Morrison’s.  It was left next to a shopping trolley outside the disables toilets.
I am somewhat of a wooden leg enthusiast   and I  know a wooden leg when I see one.  I have a huge collection and would love the opportunity to discuss swapping your wooden leg for a more comfortable up to date design.
I do hope to hear from you soon.


Photo of wooden leg against blue background 
Kindest Regards
 
Shirley Bumtruffle

Best laugh of the day!  Thank you, Ms Bumtruffle.

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