Women always maintain that giving birth is way more painful than a guy getting kicked in the nuts, but how could they know?
Well, after another beer, and some more heavy deductive thinking, I have come up with an answer to that question. Getting kicked in the nuts is more painful than having a baby, and even though I obviously couldn’t really know, here is the reason for my conclusion. A year or so after giving birth, a woman will often say, “It might be nice to have another child.”

On the other hand, you never hear a guy say, “You know, I think I would like another kick in the nuts.”

Then I tried to be a chef — figured it would add a little spice to my life, but I just didn’t have the thyme.

I managed to get a good job working for a pool maintenance company, but the work was just too draining.

Then I worked in the woods as a lumberjack, but I just couldn’t hack it, so they gave me the ax.

So then I got a job in a workout center, but they said I wasn’t fit for the job.

I studied a long time to become a doctor, but I didn’t have any patience.

I became a professional fisherman, but discovered that I couldn’t live on my net income.

‘You have been to France before, monsieur?’ the customs officer asked sarcastically.

Mr. Whiting admitted that he had been to France previously.

The official replied, ‘Then you should know enough to have your passport ready.’

The Canadian said, ‘The last time I was here, I didn’t have to show it.’

‘Impossible, Monsieur. Canadians always have to show passports on arrival in France!’

“No more headaches?” the husband asks, “What happened?”

His wife replies, my cousin Margie referred me to a hypnotist. He told me to stand in front of a mirror, stare at myself and repeat “I do not have a headache; I do not have a headache, I do not have a headache.”

It worked! The headaches are all gone.” The husband repmlies, “Well, that is so great.”

His wife then says, “You know, you haven’t been exactly a ball of fire in the bedroom these last few years. Why don’t you go see the hypnotist and see if he can do anything for that?”

The husband agrees to try it.

Following his appointment, the husband comes home, rips off his clothes, picks up his wife and carries her into the bedroom.

He puts her on the bed and says, “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

He goes into the bathroom and comes back a few minutes later and jumps into bed and makes passionate love to his wife like never before.

His wife says, “Boy, that was wonderful, just like our honeymoon when we did it three times,!”

Her husband again says, “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

With that, he goes back in the bathroom.

This time, his wife quietly follows him and there, in the bathroom, she sees him standing at the mirror and saying…
——————————————-
“She’s not my wife.

She’s not my wife.

How many times in the last decade have the political leaders of either party stood up and declared, “No, we cannot afford this.” The White House has conceded that the deficits over the next l0 years will total $3.5 trillion more than they had reported just months ago.

When a democracy reaches a point where the politicians cannot say no to the people, and both parties are competing for votes by promising even more spending or even lower taxes, or both, the experiment is about over.

“Remember,” said John Adams, “democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts and murders itself. There never was a democracy yet that did not commit suicide.”

Dear Tide:

I am writing to say what an excellent product you have. I’ve used it all of my married life, as my Mom always told me it was the best. Now that I am in my fifties I find it even better! In fact, about a month ago, I spilled some red wine on my expensive new white blouse. My inconsiderate and uncaring husband started to belittle me about how clumsy I was, and started becoming a pain in the brain.

One thing led to another and somehow or other he stumbled into my knife (eight times) and I ended up with his blood on my expensive new white blouse. I grabbed my bottle of Tide with bleach alternative, to my surprise and satisfaction, all of the stains came out. In fact, the stains came out so well the detectives who came by yesterday told me that the DNA tests on my blouse were negative and then my attorney called and said that I was no longer considered a suspect in the disappearance of my husband. What a relief!

Going through menopause is bad enough without being a murder suspect. I thank you, once again, for having a great product.

“I gif you $200 you do immigrant style.” “No way,” she says, not knowing what immigrant style is.”O.K. I gif you $300. She tells him…”Go home to your wife.”

So finally he says, “OK, I no fool aroun…I gif you $500 you do immigrant style boom boom wif me.” She thinks, “Well, I’ve been in the game for over 10 years now and I’ve had every kind of request from weirdos from every part of the world. How bad could immigrant style be?

So she agrees and has sex with him. Finally, they finish. Exhausted and out of breath , the hooker turns to the guy and says, “Hey, I was expecting something perverted and disgusting.That, was fantastic! So, what exactly is immigrant style?”

The illegal immigrant replies,”You call your government, you ask, den dey sen you $500, your boom boom money.”

[A lawyer’s epitaph in England]
Sir John Strange
Here lies an honest lawyer. And that is Strange.

[On the grave of Ezekial Aikle in East Dalhousie Cemetery, Nova Scotia]
Here lies Ezekial Aikle, Age 102. The Good Die Young.

Dec. 8, 1767 [In a Ribbesford, England, cemetery]
Anna Wallace
The children of Israel wanted bread and the Lord sent them manna. Old clerk Wallace wanted a wife. And the Devil sent him Anna.

[Memory of an accident in a Uniontown, Pennsylvania cemetery]
Here lies the body of Jonathan Blake. Stepped on the gas instead of the brake.

[Lester Moore was a Wells, Fargo Co. station agent for Naco, Arizona in the cowboy days of the 1880’s. He’s buried in the Boot Hill Cemetry in Tombtone, Arizona]:
Here lies Lester Moore. Four slugs from a .44. No Les No More.

[John Penny’s epitaph in the Wimborne, England, cemetery]
Reader if cash thou art in want of any, dig 4 feet deep and thou wilt find a Penny.

[In a cemetery in Hartscombe, England]
On the 22nd of June – Jonathan Fiddle – went out of tune.