I told my wife I wanted to be cremated.
She made an appointment for Tuesday.
Family jokes, awkward relatives, domestic chaos, and bloodline-based nonsense from Chaotic Meh — sharp, strange, and probably not safe to explain at brunch.
I told my wife I wanted to be cremated.
She made an appointment for Tuesday.
I came home and found my wife in bed with my best friend!
She was stroking him, and he was licking her!
I did what any red-blooded man would do under such circumstances.
I rolled up a newspaper, bopped him on the nose with it, and yelled:
“Bad dog! BAD dog!”
Husbands, if your wife does something wrong, just explain to her how your mom did it.
She will appreciate your advice and strive to do it as she did.
When it comes to being a good father for my daughters, I have three unwritten rules:
1)
2)
3)
Little Johnny’s parents come to the school to pick him up.
They go to the first floor. There is a door with a sign saying “Wonderful kids.” They look inside. Little Johnny isn’t there.
They go up to the second floor. There is a door with a sign saying “Good kids.” They check. Once again, Little Johnny isn’t there.
They go to the third floor. The sign says “Okay kids.” They open the door. Once again, no Little Johnny.
Floor number four. It says “Problematic kids.” No Little Johnny.
On floor number five, it says “Bad kids.” That one, too, doesn’t have Little Johnny.
Floor number six, a sign saying “Nightmare kids.” Horrified, the parents go inside… Still, no Little Johnny.
Finally, they go to the last floor, number seven.
A door.
The sign says “Little Johnny.”
Three mothers are boasting about what their babies will be when they grow up.
The first says, “Mine will be a doctor. Look how closely he examines his fingers!”
The second says, “Mine will be an engineer. Look how closely he examines his rattle!”
The third says, “Mine will be President. He’s just shit himself!”