There was an elderly couple who in their old age…

… noticed that they were getting a lot more forgetful, so they decided to go to the doctor.

The doctor told them that they should start writing things down so they don’t forget.

They went home and the old lady told her husband to get her a bowl of ice cream. “You might want to write it down,” she said.

The husband said, “No, I can remember that you want a bowl of ice cream.”

She then told her husband she wanted a bowl of ice cream with whipped cream. “Write it down,” she told him.

And again he said, “No, no, I can remember: you want a bowl of ice cream with whipped cream.”

Then the old lady said she wants a bowl of ice cream with whipped cream and a cherry on top. “Write it down,” she told her husband.

And again he said, “No, I got it. You want a bowl of ice cream with whipped cream and a cherry on top.”

So he goes to get the ice cream and spends an unusually long time in the kitchen, over 30 minutes.

He comes out to his wife and hands her a plate of bacon and eggs.

The old wife stares at the plate for a moment, then looks at her husband and asks,

“Where’s the toast?”

 

 

 After 21 years of marriage, my wife wanted me to take another woman out to dinner and a movie. She said, “I love you, but I know this other woman loves you and would love to spend some time with you.”

The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my mother, who had been a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work and my 3 children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally.

That night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie.

“What’s wrong, are you well?” she asked. “I thought that it would be pleasant to spend some time with you,” I responded. “Just the two of us.”

She thought about it for a moment, and then said, “I would like that very much.”

That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up I was a bit nervous. She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary. She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an Angel’s. “I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they were impressed,” she said, as she got into the car. “They can’t wait to hear about our meeting.”

We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice and cozy. My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady. After we sat down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print. Half way through the entries, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips. “It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small,” she said. “Then it’s time that you relax and let me return the favor,” I responded.

During the dinner, we had an agreeable conversation — nothing extraordinary but catching up on recent events of each other’s life. We talked so much that we missed the movie. As we arrived at her house later, she said, “I’ll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you.” I agreed.

“How was your dinner date?” Asked my wife when I got home.

“Very nice. Much more so than I could have imagined,” I answered.

A few days later, my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I didn’t have a chance to do anything for her. Some time later, I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place where mother and I had dined. An attached note said: “I paid this bill in advance. I wasn’t sure that I could be there; but nevertheless I paid for two plates — one for you and the other for your wife. You will never know what that night meant for me.”

“I love you, son.”

At that moment, I understood the importance of saying in time: “I love you,” and to give our loved ones the time that they deserve. Nothing in life is more important than your family.

 

I’ve been teaching now for about fifteen years. I have two kids myself, but the best birth story I know is the one I saw in my own second-grade classroom a few years back.

Usually, show-and-tell is pretty tame. Kids bring in pet turtles, model airplanes, pictures of fish they catch, stuff like that. And I never, ever place any boundaries or limitations on them. If they want to lug it to school and talk about it, they’re welcome.

Well, one day this little girl, Erica, a very bright, very outgoing kid, takes her turn and waddles up to the front of the class with a pillow stuffed under her sweater.

She holds up a snapshot of an infant. “This is Luke, my baby brother, and I’m going to tell you about his birthday.

 First, Mommy and Daddy made him as a symbol of their love, and then Daddy put a seed in my mother’s stomach, and Luke grew in there.

He ate for 9 months through an umbrella cord.” She’s standing there with her hands on the pillow, and I’m trying not to laugh and wishing I had a video camera rolling. The kids are watching her in amazement.

“Then, about two Saturdays ago, my mother starts going, ‘Oh, oh, oh!” Erica puts a hand behind her back and groans.

 “She walked around the house for, like an hour, “Oh, oh, oh!” Now this kid is doing this hysterical duck-walk, holding her back and groaning. “My father called the middle wife. She delivers babies, but she doesn’t have a sign on the car like the Domino’s man.

They got my mother to lay down in bed like this.” Erica lies down with her back against the wall. “And then, pop! My mother had this bag of water she kept in there in case he got thirsty, and it just blew up and spilled all over the bed, like psshhheew!”

The kid has her legs spread and with her little hands is miming water flowing away. It was too much!

“Then the middle wife starts going push, push, and breathe, breathe. They start counting, but they never even got past 10.

 Then, all of a sudden, out comes my brother. He was covered in yucky stuff they said was from the play-center, so there must be a lot of stuff inside there.”

Then Erica stood up, took a big theatrical bow and returned to her seat. I’m sure I applauded the loudest. Ever since then, if it’s show-and-tell day, I bring my camcorder – just in case another Erica comes along.

Share this with your friends on Facebook

 

One Monday morning, a postman was walking on his routine route to deliver the mails. As he walked on, he noticed that one of the houses had had a great party the other night. 

The postman first noticed that both of the cars that belonged to the house owners were parked in the driveway. He wondered why they hadn't gone to work at 11 am on a Monday morning. 

Just then one of the car owners, Bob, came out of the house with a bag full of empty beer and liquor bottles. He looked tired and hungover.

"Looks like someone had a wild, wild party night yesterday, eh?" the postman cheerfully asked. 

Bob waved at him. "We did have a party, but it was on Saturday night. I didn't feel like getting out of the house since Sunday morning," he said.

"Wow, must have been some party!" the postman exclaimed. 

"Yep. We had around fifteen couples from the neighborhood and it got a little wild. We got so drunk that we started playing "Who am I?" at midnight," Bob continued.

"What kind of game is that? Never heard of it before," asked the postman.

"Well, what the guys have to do is get undressed from head to toe and then grab a sheet to cover up the body except for our chests. Then the women are blindfolded and they feel us up and try to guess who we are," explained Bob.

"Damn! Now I'm sorry I couldn't be a part of it," the postman said. 

"Probably a good thing that you weren't a part of it. Your name came up like four to five times."

 

A woman was at her hairdresser's getting her hair styled for a trip to Rome with her husband.. She mentioned the trip to the hairdresser, who responded:

" Rome ? Why would anyone want to go there? It's crowded and dirty.. You're crazy to go to Rome . So, how are you getting there?"

"We're taking Aer lingus" was the reply. "We got a great rate!"

"Aer Lingus?" exclaimed the hairdresser." That's a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are ugly, and they're always late. So, where are you staying in Rome ?"

"We'll be at this exclusive little place over on Rome 's Tiber River called Teste."

"Don't go any further. I know that place. Everybody thinks its gonna be something special and exclusive, but it's really a dump."

"We're going to go to see the Vatican and maybe get to see the Pope.."

"That's rich," laughed the hairdresser. You and a million other people trying to see him. He'll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on this lousy trip of yours. You're going to need it."

A month later, the woman again came in for a hairdo. The hairdresser asked her about her trip to me .

"It was wonderful," explained the woman, "not only were we on time in one of Aer Lingus's brand new planes, but it was overbooked, and they bumped us up to Premier Class. The food and wine were wonderful, and I had a handsome 28-year-old steward who waited on me hand and foot.

And the hotel was great! They'd just finished a multi million remodeling job, and now it's a jewel, the finest hotel in the city. They, too, were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us their owner's suite at no extra charge!"

"Well," muttered the hairdresser, "that's all well and good, but I know you didn't get to see the Pope."

"Actually, we were quite lucky, because as we toured the Vatican , a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder, and explained that the Pope likes to meet some of the visitors, and if I'd be so kind as to step into his private room and wait, the Pope would personally greet me.

Sure enough, five minutes later, the Pope walked through the door and shook my hand! I knelt down and he spoke a few words to me."

"Oh, really! What'd he say ?"

He said: "Who f***ed up your hair?"