Mrs. Donovan

Mrs. Donovan was walking down O'Connell Street in Dublin when she met up with Father Flaherty.

The Father said, 'Top o' the mornin' to ye! Aren't ye Mrs. Donovan and didn't I marry ye and yer hoosband 2 years ago?' She replied, 'Aye, that ye did, Father.'

The Father asked, 'And be there any wee little ones yet?' She replied, 'No, not yet, Father.'

The Father said, 'Well now, I'm going to Rome next week and I'll light a candle for ye and yer hoosband.' She replied, 'Oh, thank ye, Father.' They then parted ways.

Some years later they met again. The Father asked, 'Well now, Mrs. Donovan, how are ye these days?'

She replied, 'Oh, very well, Father!' The Father asked, 'And tell me, have ye any wee ones yet?'

She replied, 'Oh yes, Father! Three sets of twins and 4 singles, 10 in all!'

The Father said, 'That's wonderful! And how is yer loving hoosband doing?'

She replied, 'E's gone to Rome to blow out yer fookin' candle!'

Follow a Snow Plow

It was snowing heavily and blowing to the point that visibility was almost zero when the little blonde got off work. She made her way to her car and wondered how she was going to make it home. She sat in her car while it warmed up and thought about her situation. She finally remembered her daddy's advice that if she got caught in a blizzard she should wait for a snow plow to come by and follow it. That way she would not get stuck in a snow drift. This made her feel much better and sure enough in a little while a snow plow went by and she started to follow it. As she followed the snow plow she was feeling very smug as they continued and she was not having any problem with the blizzard conditions.

After an hour had passed, she was somewhat surprised when the snowplow stopped and the driver got out and came back to her car and signaled for her to roll down her window. The snow plow driver wanted to know if she was all right as she had been following him for a long time. She said that she was fine and told him of her daddy's advice to follow a snow plow when caught in a blizzard.

The driver replied that it was ok with him and she could continue if she wanted, but he was done with the Wal-Mart parking lot and was going over to Sears next.

Why the Printer Doesn't Work

Watch me

Still in the Crate

Boudreaux, out on the golf course, takes a high speed ball right in the crotch.

Writhing in agony, he falls to the ground. As soon as he could manage, he took himself to the doctor.

He said 'How bad is it doc? . . . I'm going on my honeymoon next week and my fiance', Clotile, is still a virgin - in every way'. The doctor told him, 'I'll have to put your Willie in a splint to let it heal and keep it straight. It should be okay next week.'

He took four tongue depressors and formed a neat little 4 sided splint, and taped it all together . . . quite an impressive work of art.

Boudreaux mentions none of this to Clotile, marries her, and they go on their honeymoon.

That night in the motel room, Clotile rips open her blouse to reveal her beautiful untouched breasts. She said, 'You're the first one. No one has
EVER seen deez.'

Boudreaux immediately drops his pants and replies, . . . . 'Look at dis, ...still in da CRATE!'

Happy Thanksgiving

This will probably bring back many memories to any of us having had experiences with small children's conversations. For most people, Thanksgiving is a time to reflect on what we've been given and to savor the scents of crisp autumn days and pumpkin pie, but for this out to the car and crawled into the woman it has a whole different meaning:

One November afternoon when my daughter was in kindergarten, I picked her up after school. She bobbed back seat.

"What did you do today?" I asked.

She couldn't wait to tell me. "We learned that boys are different from girls" she chirped. Looking into the rearview mirror I could just see the top of her head. "My teacher told us that boys have a thing the girls don't," she added.

"Well, yes they do ..." I said cautiously.

Then she piped up again. "That's how girls know that boys are boys," she said. "They see that thing hanging down and they know that he's a boy ..." I mentally calculated the distance home. Our five-minute commute already felt like an hour.

"Did you know that when the boys see a girl they puff up?"

My palms were beginning to sweat. "Um ... well ..." I was still searching for something to say, to change the subject, when she asked, "Why do the girls like boys to have those things?" Well I didn't know what to say. I mean, what woman hasn't asked herself that very same question at least once? "Oh, well...um..." I stammered.

She didn't wait for my answer. She had her own. "It's cause it moves when they walk and when girls see that they know they're boys and that's when they like them. Then the boy sees the girl and he puffs up, then the girl really knows he likes her too. And then they get married. And then they get cooked."

That last part confused me a bit, but on the whole I thought she had a pretty good grasp on things. As soon as we got home she hopped out of the car, fishing something out of her school bag. "I drew a picture," she said. "... you want to see?"

I wasn't all that sure I did, but I looked anyway. I had to sit down. There, all puffed up so to speak, looking mighty attractive for the ladies, was a crayon drawing of a great big Tom Turkey. His snood, the thing that hangs down over his beak, the thing that female turkeys find so irresistible, was magnificent. His tail feathers were standing tall and proud.

She was a little offended that I laughed so hard at her drawing. I laughed until I cried. But I told her I loved it - and I did - and she got over her pique. That was the end of that ... for her anyway. But I'm not so lucky. Every year I remember that conversation, and to be honest I haven't looked at a turkey or a man the same way since.

Nice Fire Truck

The fire fighter is working on the engine outside the fire station when he notices a little girl next door in a little red wagon with little ladders hung off the sides and a garden hose tightly coiled in the middle.

The girl is wearing a fire fighter's helmet.

The wagon is being pulled by her dog and her cat.

The fire fighter walked over to take a closer look.

"That sure is a nice fire truck," he said with admiration.

"Thanks," the little girl said.

The fire fighter looks a little closer and notices the girl has tied the wagon to her dog's collar and to the cat's testicles.

"Little Partner", the fire fighter says, "I don't want to tell you how to run your rig, but if you were to tie that rope around the cat's collar instead of it's testicles, I think it could run faster."

The little girl replies thoughtfully, "You're probably right, but then I wouldn't have a siren."

A Christmas Story

When four of Santa's elves got sick, the trainee elves did not produce toys as fast as the regular ones, and Santa began to feel the Pre-Christmas pressure.

Then Mrs. Claus told Santa her Mother was coming to visit, which stressed Santa even more.
When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two others had jumped the fence and were out, Heaven knows where.

Then when he began to load the sleigh, one of the floorboards cracked, the toy bag fell to the ground and all the toys were scattered.

Frustrated, Santa went in the house for a cup of apple cider and a shot of rum. When he went to the cupboard, he discovered the elves had drank all the cider and hidden the liquor. In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider jug, and it broke into hundreds of little glass pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found the mice had eaten all the straw off the end of the broom.

Just then the doorbell rang, and irritated Santa marched to the door, yanked it open, and there stood a little angel with a great big Christmas tree.

The angel said very cheerfully, 'Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn't this a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to stick it?'

And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.