The Talking Clock

After closing time at the bar, a drunk was proudly showing off his new 
apartment to a couple of his friends. 

He led the way to his bedroom where there was a big brass gong and a mallet.



"What's that big brass gong?" one of the guests asked.

"It's not a gong. It's a talking clock," the drunk replied.

"A talking clock? Seriously?" asked his astonished friend.

"Yup, it is," replied the drunk.


"How's it work?" the friend asked, squinting at it. "Look like only a gong to me."


      "Watch," the drunk replied. He picked up the mallet, gave the gong a mighty ear-shattering pound and stepped back. The three stood looking at one another for a moment.

Suddenly, someone on the other side of the wall screamed, 

"YOU ASSHOLE!  IT'S THREE-FIFTEEN IN THE MORNING!"

A Woman's Week at the Gym

Dear Diary,

For my birthday this year, my husband purchased for me a week of personal training at the local health club. Although I am still in great shape, being a high school football cheerleader 43 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give personal training a try. Maybe I could spice up our love life a bit.

I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Christo, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor, also a model for athletic clothing and swim wear. Friends seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started. The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.

MONDAY:

Started my day at 6:00 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Christo waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god—blond hair, dancing eyes, and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!

Christo gave me a tour and showed me the machines. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring!

Christo was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time he was around. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!

TUESDAY:

I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Christo made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air then he put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. His rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT! It's a whole new life for me.

WEDNESDAY:

The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot.

Christo was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. His voice is a little too perky for that early in the morning and when he scolds, he gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying.

My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Christo put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Christo told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other shit too.

THURSDAY:

Asshole was waiting for me with his vampire-like teeth exposed as his thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late—it took me that long to tie my shoes. He told me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. He sent some skinny bitch to find me. Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine—which I sank.

FRIDAY:

I hate that bastard Christo more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic, little aerobics instructor. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it. Christo wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And, Christo, if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the damn barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich. The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?

SATURDAY:

           Satan left a message on my answering machine in his grating, shrilly voice,

wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing his voice made me want to smash the machine with my planner; however, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.

SUNDAY:

I'm not talking to my husband. I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my husband will choose a gift for me that is fun—like a root canal or a hysterectomy. I still say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have sprinkled the floor with diamonds!!!

Two Priests on a Beach

Two priests decided to go to Hawaii on a Christmas vacation.

They were determined to make this a real vacation by not

wearing anything that would identify them as clergy. As soon as the

plane landed they, headed for a store and bought really outrageous

shorts, shirts, sandals, and sunglasses.

The next morning they went to the beach dressed in their

tourist garb. They were sitting on beach chairs, enjoying a drink, the

sunshine and the scenery, when a drop-dead gorgeous blonde in a

topless bikini came walking straight towards them.

They couldn't help but stare.

As the blonde approached them she smiled and said, "Good

morning, Father. Good morning, Father," nodding and addressing each

of them individually. Then she passed strutted on by.

The priests looked at each other, stunned.

How in the world did she know they were priests?

The next day, they went back to the store and bought even more outrageous outfits that were so loud you could practically hear them before you even saw them!

Once again, in their new attire, they settled down in their chairs on the beach to enjoy the sunshine and the view.

After a little while, the same gorgeous blonde, wearing a different colored topless bikini, taking her sweet time, came strolling toward them. Again she nodded at each of them and said, "Good morning, Father. Good morning, Father."

As prance away, one of the priests couldn't stand it any longer and blurted, "Just a minute, young lady...!

"Yes, Father? What is it?"

"We are priests and proud of it, but I have to know, how in the world do you know we are priests, dressed as we are?"

Smiling, the beautiful topless blonde replied, "Father, it's me—Sister Mary Agnes."

Vern's Funeral

Vern works hard at the Phone Company, putting in a lot of overtime, but he also spends two nights each week bowling and plays golf every Saturday. 

Still, his wife thinks he's pushing himself too hard, and she's eager to spice up their sex life. So for his birthday she totally surprises him by driving him to a local strip club.

Vern doesn't realize what's happening, and once his wife parks in the parking lot, it's too late for him to back down. While entering the front door with his wife, he tries to turn his face aside, but the doorman at the club recognizes him and says, "Hey, Vern! How ya doin', man?"

His wife is puzzled and asks if he's been to this club before. 

"Oh no," says Vern quickly. "He's in my bowling league."

When they're seated, a waitress asks Vern if he'd like his usual and brings over a Budweiser.

His wife is becoming increasingly uncomfortable and says, "How did she know that you drink Budweiser?"

"I recognize her—she's the waitress from the golf club. I always have a Bud at the end of the first nine, honey."

A stripper then comes over to their table, throws her arms around Vern, starts to rub herself all over him, and says, "Hi, Vern. Want your usual lap dance, big boy?"

Vern's wife, now furious grabs her purse and storms out of the club. Vern follows and spots her getting into a cab—she refuses to drive home with him. Before she can slam the door, he jumps in beside her. He tries desperately to explain how the stripper must have mistaken him for someone else. But his wife is having none of it. She is screaming at him at the top of her lungs, calling him every four-letter word in the book.

The cabby turns around and says "Geez, Vern, you picked up a real bitch this time."

Vern's funeral is next week.

Old Fart Football

An old married couple no sooner hit the pillows when the old man

passes gas and says, "Seven  Points."

His wife rolls over and says, "What in the world was that?"

The old man replies, "It's fart football."

A few minutes later his wife lets one go and says, "Touchdown. Score tied."

After about five minutes, the old man lets another one go and says, "I'm ahead fourteen to seven."

Not to be outdone the wife rips out another one and says, "Touchdown. Score tied." Five seconds go by. She lets out a little squeaker and says, "Field goal. I lead seventeen to fourteen."

 Now the pressure is on the old man.

Refusing to get beaten by a woman, especially his wife, he strains hard.

Defeat is totally unacceptable.

He gives it everything he's got—and accidentally messes in the bed. His wife says, "What the hell was that?"

The old man says, "Half time, my dear. Switch sides."

A Kiss Is Never Just a Kiss

When the mood strikes, a kiss can catch us in a mix of tastes, textures, mysteries—and scents. We kiss nervously, flirtingly, angrily, or excitedly.  And a kiss is not just all about sex: Hollywood celebs throw us air kisses; mobsters impart the kiss of death, and an astronaut kisses the soil after a safe return home. 

So why, then, are we so taken with kissing?

Scientists agree our lips evolved first for eating—and then later for speech. Yet, with a kiss, a different kind of hunger applies. Did you know that kisses set off a whirlwind of neuro-chemical messages yielding anything from sensations of touch to sexual arousal; feelings of closeness to even a wave of euphoria? That's right. I'll bet you've felt all of that in your lifetime.



But everyone knows kissing is not a solo affair, and kissing transmits external messages as well. The bringing together of two bodies sets off messages just as powerful with your partner, but whether they are precisely the same feelings or not is another matter altogether.  Kisses pack quite a punch. Even one kiss can transmit much information about the potential of a relationship. Researchers say that kisses are so powerful that a first kiss gone badly can derail even the most promising of relationships. Scientists believe that lip-locking evolved as a means to promote mate-selection—I'll go along with that thought. Kisses transmit olfactory, tactile and postural types of information tapping into both the conscious and unconscious mind that drives decisions, including a genetically-compatible mate!  Some researchers believe that a kiss can even disclose the extent to which a partner might commit to raising children—central to our specie’s survival.

Nearly 50 years ago, British zoologist and author Desmond Morris theorizied that kissing probably evolved from primates: mothers chew food for their young, and then feed them mouth-to-mouth. And since chimps still feed this way, early man probably did so, as well. This press of outturned lips against lips may have later progressed as a way to comfort children in times of hunger—and eventually becoming a general expression of affection. (Leave it to us humans to take these first parental kisses down the myriad of paths we have today!)

It is believed that unseen chemical messengers named pheromones helped along the evolution of the intimate kiss.  Both animals and plants use pheromones to communicate: insects, for example, emit pheromones to signal alarms, point out a food trail or announce sexual attraction. In 1995, a Swiss researcher showed why pheromones are so important in humans, too.  He had women sniff t-shirts worn by men, and asked which smelled best. The results were startling: the women did not choose randomly, which was discovered by comparing the DNA of the women and men.  Instead, women overwhelmingly picked the scent of man whose histocompatibility complex (MHC)—the genes that forge our immune systems—differed from their own.  (Different MHC’s mean less immune overlap, and the increased likelihood of healthy, disease-resistant kids.) Thus, kissing may be a woman’s way of assessing a potential mate’s immune compatibility—without investing an excessive amount of time, energy in (and not to mention sexual activity with) a man. 

But these scientists aren’t telling the average person anything new: when it comes time to close your eyes and lean in, we all know that a kiss is never just a kiss.
 

Little Old Ladies in Florida

Two elderly ladies are sitting on the front porch in Daytona, doing nothing. One lady turns and asks, "Do you still get horny?"

The other replies, "Oh sure I do. All the time."

The first old lady asks, "What do you do about it?"

The second old lady replies, "I suck a lifesaver."

After a few moments, the first old lady asks, "Who drives you to the beach?"

Three old ladies were sitting side by side in their retirement home in Jacksonville reminiscing. The first lady recalled shopping at the green grocers and demonstrated with her hands, the length and thickness of a cucumber she could buy for a penny.

The second old lady nodded, adding that onions used to be much bigger and cheaper also, and demonstrated the size of two big onions she could buy for a penny a piece.

The third old lady smiled and said, "I can't hear a word you're saying, but I remember the guy you're talking about."

A little old lady is sitting on a park bench in The Sun Lakes, a Florida Adult community. A man walks over and sits down on the other end of the bench. After a few moments, the woman asks,  "Are you a stranger here?"

He replies, "I lived here years ago."

"So, where were you all these years?'"

'In prison,' he says.

"Why did they put you in prison?"

He looks at her, and very quietly says, "I killed my wife."

"Oh!" says the woman. "So you're single...?!"