A teenager who had just received her learner’s permit offered to drive her parents to church. After a hair-raising ride, they finally reached their destination.
The mother got out of the car and said, “Thank you!”
“Anytime,” her daughter replied.
As the woman slammed the door, she said, “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to God.”
The Smith’s were proud of their family tradition; their ancestors had come to America on the Mayflower and also included many Senators and Wall Street wizards.
When they decided to compile a family history as a legacy reminder for their children and grandchildren they hired a fine author. Only one problem arose and that was how to handle that great-uncle George, who was executed in the electric chair.
The author said he could handle the story tactfully.
The book appeared. It said “Great-uncle George occupied a chair of applied electronics at an important government institution, was attached to his position by the strongest of ties, and his death came as a great shock.”
Two elderly women were fussing about their husbands over tea one day.
“I do wish my Leroy would stop biting his nails. That habit really bothers me!” the first one said.
“Oh, my Elmer used to do the same thing,” the other woman commented, “but I broke him of that habit real quick.”
“What did you do?”
“I hid his teeth!”
The boss ordered one of his men to dig a hole eight feet deep. After the job was completed the boss returned and explained an error had been made and the hole wouldn’t be needed.
“Fill ‘er up,” he ordered.
The worker did as he’d been told. But he ran into a problem. He couldn’t get all the dirt packed back into the hole without leaving a mound on top. He went to the office and explained his problem.
The boss snorted, “Honestly! The kind of help you get these days! There’s obviously only one thing to do. You’ll have to dig that hole deeper!”
My wife and I are teachers, and our jobs often spill over into our family life. One morning as our eight-year-old Maggie was getting ready for school, I peeked into her room to be sure she had tidied it up.
“You call THAT a made bed?” I asked.
No Dad,” Maggie replied. “It’s just a rough draft.”
A man walks into his doctor’s office and says,
“Doctor, I’ve eaten something that disagrees with me.”
A voice from the man’s stomach says, “No, you haven’t.”