In the shower this morning I had some thoughts that struck me as somewhat funny. Perhaps you fellow TUSCLers could complete it...
A wife's cooking is kinda like her abilities in bed:
If she's a bad cook...
- You might go out for fast food = Visit an SC for some LDs
- You might go to a decent sitdown restaurant = Go to an AMP
- You might have a nice desert = happy ending
- Treat yourself to a multi course meal at a fine establishment = See a good escort.
- You might cook for yourself = masturbation.
- You might go eat your friend's wife's cooking = Cheating or MMF?
- You might eat at your parents for some home cooking = Incest?
- You might just have to go hungry = Celibacy
I'm sure there are many more....add something or improve it if you want.
Thanks, Prim0
WHY ARE YOU NOT MARRIED?
I was hoping to do something meaningful with my life.
It gives my mother something to live for.
I'm still hoping for a shot at Miss America.
It didn't seem worth a blood test.
I already have enough laundry to do, thank you.
Because I think it would take all the spontaneity out of dating.
Soon after being transferred to a new duty station, my Marine husband called home to tell me he would be late – again. He went on to say that dirty magazines had been discovered in the platoon’s quarters and they had to police the area.
I launched into a tirade, arguing that many men had pictures hanging in their quarters at our previous post, so his new platoon should not be penalized for something trivial.
My husband calmly listened to my gripes and then explained, “Kathy, Dirty Magazines means the clips from their rifles had not been properly cleaned.â€
Like any mother, I worried when my son joined the Marines. But later on, when I asked him how things were going, he put my mind at ease.
"Let me put it this way, Mom," he said. "Living with you prepared me for boot camp."
My wife, Dolores, never quite got the hang of the 24-hour military clock. One day she called the orderly room and asked to speak with me. The person who answered told her to call me at the extension in the band rehearsal hall. "He can be reached at 4700, ma'am," the soldier advised.
With a sigh of exasperation, my wife responded, "And just what time is that?"