A jeweler standing behind the counter of his shop after hours was astounded to see a suspicious-looking man come hurling headfirst through the window.
“What on earth are you up to? What happened?!” he demanded.
“I’m terribly sorry,” said the man, “I forgot to let go of the brick.”
A woman was out driving with her husband. She was speeding along about fifty when a motorcycle cop appeared alongside and indicated for her to pull over.
The cop looked at her and said, “Hmmm…I’m going to put you down for fifty-five.”
She turned to her husband. “See! I told you this hat makes me look old.”
We’re about to enter the peak of the hurricane season in Florida. If you’re new to the area, you’re probably wondering what you need to do to prepare for the possibility that we’ll get hit by “the big one.” Based on our experiences, we recommend that you follow this simple three-step hurricane preparedness plan:
STEP 1. Buy enough food and bottled water to last your family for at least three days.
STEP 2. Put these supplies into your car.
STEP 3. Drive to Nebraska and remain there until Thanksgiving.
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Unfortunately, statistics show that most people will not follow this sensible plan. Most people will foolishly stay here in Florida. We’ll start with one of the most important hurricane preparedness items:
HOMEOWNERS’ INSURANCE: If you own a home, you must have hurricane insurance. Fortunately, this insurance is cheap
and easy to get, as long as your home meets two basic requirements:
(1) It is reasonably well-built, and…
(2) It is located in Nebraska.
Unfortunately, if your home is located in Florida, or any other area that might actually be hit by a hurricane, most insurance companies would prefer not to sell you hurricane insurance, because then they might be required to pay YOU money, and that is certainly not why they got into the insurance business in the first place.
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EVACUATION ROUTE: If you live in a low-lying area, you should have an evacuation route planned out. (To determine whether
you live in a low-lying area, look at your driver’s license; if it says “Florida”, you live in a low-lying area.)
The purpose of having an evacuation route is to avoid being trapped in your home when a major storm hits. Instead, you will be trapped in a gigantic traffic jam several miles from your home, along with two hundred thousand other evacuees. So, as a bonus, you will not be lonely.
Of course these are just basic precautions. As the hurricane draws near, it is vitally important that you keep abreast of the situation by turning on your television and watching TV reporters in rain slickers stand right next to the ocean and tell you over and over how vitally important it is for everybody to stay away from the ocean.
Good luck, and remember: It’s great living in Paradise (a.k.a. “The Sunshine State”).
My wife was in labor with our first child. Things were going pretty well when suddenly she began to shout, “Shouldn’t! Wouldn’t! Couldn’t! CAN’T!”
“Doctor, what’s wrong with my wife!” I cried.
“It’s perfectly normal,” he reassured me, “She’s just having her contractions.”
I realized that my five-year-old grandson had been watching too many reality TV shows the day we attended a relative’s wedding.
As the four bridesmaids walked down the aisle toward the front of the church, he turned to me and asked, “Is this where the groom decides which one he wants to marry?”
We have a new employee, Jose, at the local Home Depot and has proven to be very knowledgeable and helpful to the sawdust-challenged like myself.
Yesterday I needed his guidance after ruining several pieces of wood with my newly purchased belt sander.
A fast trip to the store led to the retro question,
“Do you know the way to sand, Jose?”
A Sunday School teacher was trying to explain about saying grace before meals.
One of the pupils was the young son of the minister of that church, so she started the discussion by asking him, “Jerry, what does your father say when the family sits down to dinner?”
Jerry answered, “Dad says, ‘Go easy on the butter, kids, it’s three dollars a pound!'”
A young college girl came running in tears to her father. “Dad, you gave me some terrible financial advice!” she cried.
“I did? What did I tell you?” said the dad.
“You told me to put my money in that big bank, and now that big bank is in trouble.”
“What are you talking about? That’s one of the largest banks in the world,” he said. “Surely there must be some mistake.”
“I don’t think so,” she sniffed. “They just returned one of my checks with a note saying, ‘Insufficient Funds’.”
Fresh from a visit to the dentist, I decided to stop at my bank.
Barely able to enunciate, I told the teller, “I’m sorry about not speaking more clearly. I’ve had Novocaine.”
“You should have used the drive-through,” she said.
“Why?”
“Everyone who goes through sounds like you,” she explained.
A young man applied for a job at a new factory being built in a nearby town. He entered the main office, where the receptionist directed him down the hall to an office where he was to be interviewed by the Personnel Officer.
After several minutes of describing and explaining all about the new factory, the Personnel Officer told the young man, “We need individuals who are totally responsible.”
The young man grinned and responded: “Well, I sure qualify. Everywhere I’ve worked, when something went wrong, I was always responsible!”
A couple went to pay a visit to another couple, unannounced. The wife answered the door. “Come in,” she said.
The other couple came in, sat down, then asked, “So, where’s Jack?”
“Oh,” replied his wife, “he’s in the bathroom, grouting and spackling.”
“Oh, dear,” said the other lady, “I had that once and didn’t get over it for two weeks.”
Checking out of the grocery store, I noticed that the bag boy was eyeing my two adopted children curiously. They often draw scrutiny, since my son’s a blond Russian, while my daughter has shiny black Haitian skin.
The boy continued staring as he carried our groceries to the car. Finally, he asked, “Are those your kids?”
“Yes, they are!” I answered proudly.
“They adopted?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“I thought so,” he concluded. “I figured you’re too old to have kids that small.”
Carole was planning her upcoming wedding and asked to wear her mother’s wedding gown.
When she tried it on, it was a perfect fit on her petite frame. Suddenly, her mother’s eyes filled with tears. Putting an arm around her, Carole lovingly said, “Don’t cry, Mom. Remember, you aren’t losing a daughter, you’re gaining a son.”
“Oh, forget about that!” her mother sobbed. “I used to fit into that gown!”
At the prestigious university I attend, there is a clear hierarchy that outlines how long one was to wait for a class to begin if the professor were absent.
A full professor rated fifteen minutes. An associate only ten. A mere instructor was expected to be on time, if not early. This system worked only one way, however; and students were afforded no such grace.
It was to be expected, therefore, that one professor, the foremost authority in his field by his own admission, would register distinct annoyance when the student, just out of military service, was late for class for the third morning running.
“Tell me,” the professor began, “exactly what did they say in the Army when you sauntered in late like this?”
“Well,” mused the unperturbed young man… “first they saluted, then they asked, ‘How are you this morning, sir?'”
There was a knock at the door. It was a small boy, about six years old. Something of his had found its way into my garage, he said, and he wanted it back.
Upon opening the garage door, I noticed two additions: a baseball and a broken window sporting a baseball-sized hole. “How do you suppose this ball got in here?” I asked the boy.
Taking one look at the ball, one look at the window, and one look at me, the boy exclaimed, “Wow! I must have thrown it right through that hole!”