The other night I was invited out for a night with "the girls." I
told my husband that I would be home by midnight, "I promise!" Well, the
hours passed and the margaritas went down way too easy. Around 3 a.m., a
bit loaded, I headed for home.
Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and
cuckooed 3 times. Quickly, realizing my husband would probably wake
up, I cuckooed another 9 times. I was really proud of myself for coming
up with such a quick-witted solution (even when totally smashed), in
order to escape a possible conflict with him.
The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, and I told
him "Midnight". He didn't seem pissed off at all. Whew! Got away with
that one!
Then he said, "We need a new cuckoo clock." When I asked him why,
he said, "Well, last night our clock cuckooed three times, then said,
"Oh sh!t.", cuckooed 4 more times, cleared it's throat, cuckooed
another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the
coffee table and farted.
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A large woman, wearing a sleeveless sun dress, walked into a bar in
Clayton.
She raised her right arm, revealing a huge, hairy armpit as she pointed to
all the people sitting at the bar and asked, "What man here will buy a lady
a drink?"
The bar went silent as the patrons tried to ignore her. But down at the end
of the bar, an owly-eyed drunk slammed his hand down on the counter and
bellowed, "Give the ballerina a drink!" The bartender poured the drink and
the woman chugged it down.
She turned to the patrons and again pointed around at all of them, revealing
the same hairy armpit, and asked, "What man here will buy a lady a drink?"
Once again, the same little drunk slapped his money down on the bar and
said, "Give the ballerina another drink!"
The bartender approached the little drunk and said, "I say, old chap, it's
none of my business if you want to buy the lady a drink, but why do you
keep calling her the ballerina?"
The drunk replied, "Any woman who can lift her leg that high has got to be
a ballerina