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Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the vet. Here's what happened:
Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room.
"He's just lying there looking sick," he told me."I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?"
I put my best lizard-healer expression on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.
"Honey," I called, "come look at the lizard!"
"Oh, my gosh!" my wife exclaimed. "She's having babies."
"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!"
I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce" I said accusingly to my wife.
"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she inquired (I think she actually said this sarcastically!)
"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth).
"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," she informed me (Again with the sarcasm!)
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.
"Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience," I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth."
"Oh, gross!" they shrieked.
"Well, isn't THAT just great? What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?" my wife wanted to know.
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
"We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted. "It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified. "Do something, Dad!" my son urged.
"Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.
"Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)
"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap. "Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.
"I don't think lizards do Lamaze," his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean whatshe does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for God's sake).
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
"What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.
"Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?" I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor. In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen . . . Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um . . . um . . masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back." He blushed, glancing at my wife.
We were silent, absorbing this.
"So, Ernie's just . . just . . excited," my wife offered.
"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
More silence. Then my vicious, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then even laugh loudly.
"What's so! funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.
Tears were now running down her face. "It's just . . that . . I'm picturing you pulling on its . . . its . . . teeny little . ." She gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more. That's enough," I warned.
We thanked the vet and hurriedly bundled the lizard and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay. "I know Ernie's really thankful for what you did, Dad," he told me.
"Oh, you have NO idea, " my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
Two lizards: $140.
One cage: $50.
Trip to the vet: $30.
Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's winkie: Priceless!
Moral of the story: Pay attention in biology class. Lizards lay eggs.
Norwegian Logger
A Norwegian decides to travel to Canada to see the
Pacific Ocean. When he gets to Grand Forks, he likes
the place so much that he decides to stay.
But first he must find a job!!!!
He walks into the Monson lumber office and fills out
an application as an Experienced Logger. It's his
lucky day!!! They just happen to be looking for someone.
But first, the bush foreman takes him for a ride into the
bush in the company pickup truck to see how much he knows.
The foreman stops the truck on the side of the road
and points at a tree. See that tree over there? I want
you to tell me what species it is and how many board feet
of lumber it contains.
The Norwegian promptly answers, "dat dere's a sitka
spruce, eh? And she's got 383 board feet of lumber in 'er."
The foreman is impressed!!!
He puts the truck in motion and stops about a mile
down the road. He points at another tree through
the passenger window and asks the same question.
This time, it's a bigger tree of a different class.
"Lord tunderin'!! Dat's yer douglas fir and she got
690 board feet." says the Norwegian.
Now the foreman is really impressed.
The Norwegian has answered quickly and got the
answers right without using a calculator!!!!
One more test.
They drive a little further down the road, and the
foreman stops again.
This time, he points across the road through his
driver side window and says "and what about that one?"
Before the foreman finishes pointing, the Norwegian
says, "a yeller cedar, 242 board feet at most."
The foreman spins the truck around and heads back to
the office a little pissed off because he thinks the
Norwegian is smarter than he.
As they near the office, the foreman stops the truck
and asks the Norwegian to step outside. He hands him
a piece of chalk and tells him, "see that tree over there?
I want you to mark an x on the front of that tree!"
The foreman thinks to himself, "idiot!! How would he
know which is the front of the tree?
When the Norwegian reaches the tree, he goes around
it in a circle while looking at the ground. He then reaches
up and places a white x on the trunk.
He walks back to the foreman and hands him the chalk.
"Dat's da front a' dat tree fer sure." the Norwegian states.
The foreman laughs to himself and asks
sarcastically, "How in the hell do you know that's the front of the tree?"
The Norwegian looks down at his feet, while rubbing
the toe of his left boot cleaning it in the gravel and
replies,"cuz somebody took a crap behind it, eh?"
A lady died this past January, and Citibank billed her
>>> for February and March for their annual service
>>> charges on her credit card, and added late fees
>>> and interest on the monthly charge. The balance had
>>> been $0.00, now somewhere around $60.00.
>>>
>>> A family member placed a call to Citibank.Here is the exchange:
>>> Family Member: "I am calling to tell you she died in January."
>>> Citibank: "The account was never closed and the late fees and charges
>
>>> still
>>> apply."
>>> Family Member: "Maybe , you should turn it over to collections."
>>> Citibank: "Since it is two months past due, it already has been."
>>> Family Member: So, what will they do when they find out she is dead?"
>>> Citibank: "Either report her account to frauds division or report her
> to
>>> the
>>> credit bureau, maybe both!"
>>> Family Member: "Do you think God will be mad at her?" (I really like
> this
>>> part!)
>>> Citibank: "Excuse me?"
>>> Family Member: "Did you just get what I was telling you - the part
> about
>>> her
>>> being dead?"
>>> Citibank: "Sir, you'll have to speak to my supervisor." (Duh!)
>>> Supervisor gets on the phone:
>>> Family Member: "I'm calling to tell you,she died in January."
>>> Citibank: "The account was never closed and late fees and charges
> still
>>> apply."
>>> (This must be a phrase taught by the bank!)
>>> Family Member: "You mean you want to collect from her estate?"
>>> Citibank: (Stammer) "Are you her lawyer?"
>>> Family Member: "No, I'm her great nephew." (Lawyer info given)
>>> Citibank: "Could you fax us a certificate of death?"
>>> Family Member: "Sure." (Fax number is given)
>>> After they get the fax:
>>> Citibank: "Our system just isn't setup for death. I don't know what
> more
>>> I
>>> can do to help."
>>> Family Member: "Well, if you figure it out, great! If not, you could just
>>> keep billing her. I don't think she will care."
>>> Citibank: "Well, the late fees and charges do still apply."
>>> (What is wrong with these people?!?)
>>> Family Member: "Would you like her new billing address?"
>>> Citibank: "That might help."
>>> Family Member: "Odessa Memorial Cemetery, Highway 129, PlotNumber
> 69."
>>> Citibank: "Sir, that's a cemetery!"
>>> Family Member: "What do you do with dead people on your planet?
>>>
A young Wall Street trader is convicted of insider trading and reports to prison. The prison official escorts him to his cell to meet his new cellmate. The new cellmate is a huge, beefy guy and the first words he says to the trader are "so do you want to be the husband or the wife?". The Wall Street traders thinks for a moment and reply's "the husband". The big, beefy cell mate replies "so get over here and suck your wife's dick".
Important warnings for those who have been drawn unsuspectingly into the use of bread:
More than 98 percent of convicted felons are bread users.
Fully HALF of all children who grow up in bread-consuming households score below average on standardized tests.
In the 18th century, when virtually all bread was baked in the home, the average life expectancy was less than 50 years; infant mortality rates were unacceptably high; many women died in childbirth; and diseases such as typhoid, yellow fever, and influenza ravaged whole nations.
More than 90 percent of violent crimes are committed within 24 hours of eating bread.
Bread is made from a substance called "dough." It has been proven
that as little as one pound of dough can be used to suffocate a mouse. The average American eats more bread than that in one month!
Primitive tribal societies that have no bread exhibit a low incidence of cancer, Alzheimer's, Parkinson's disease, and osteoporosis.
Bread has been proven to be addictive. Subjects deprived of bread and given only water to eat begged for bread after as little as two days.
Bread is often a "gateway" food item, leading the user to "harder" items such as butter, jelly, peanut butter, and even cold cuts.
Bread has been proven to absorb water. Since the human body is more than 90 percent water, it follows that eating bread could lead to your body being taken over by this absorptive food product, turning you into a soggy, gooey bread-pudding person.
Newborn babies can choke on bread.
Bread is baked at temperatures as high as 400 degrees Fahrenheit! That kind of heat can kill an adult in less than one minute.
Most American bread eaters are utterly unable to distinguish between significant scientific fact and meaningless statistical babbling.
Most American bread eaters are utterly unable to distinguish between significant scientific fact and meaningless statistical babbling.
In light of these frightening statistics, the following bread restrictions are proposed:
No sale of bread to minors.
A nationwide "Just Say No To Toast" campaign, complete with celebrity TV spots and bumper stickers.
A 300 percent federal tax on all bread to pay for all the societal ills we might associate with bread.
No animal or human images, nor any primary colors (which may appeal to children) may be used to promote bread usage.
The establishment of "Bread-free" zones around schools.
~ Live long and prosper! Just say "NO" to bread and bread products!
A chicken farmer went to a local bar, sat next to a woman, and ordered a glass of champagne.
The woman perks up and says, "How about that?
I just ordered a glass of champagne, too!
"What a coincidence," he said, "This is a special day for me. I'm celebrating."
"This is a special day for me, too, and I'm also celebrating!" says the woman.
"What a coincidence," says the man.
As they clinked glasses he asked, "What are you celebrating?"
"My husband and I have been trying to have a child, and today my gynecologist told me I'm pregnant!"
"What a coincidence," says the man. "I'm a chicken farmer.
For years all my hens were infertile, but today they're finally laying fertilized eggs."
"That's great!" says the woman, "How did your chickens become fertile?"
"I switched cocks"
She smiled and said, "What a coincidence!"
A first-grade teacher, Ms. Brooks, was having trouble with one of her students. The teacher asked, "Harry, what's your problem?"
Harry answered, "I'm too smart for the 1st grade. My sister is in the
3rd grade and I'm smarter than she is! I think I should be in the 3rd grade too!"
Ms. Brooks had had enough. She took Harry to the principal's office.
While Harry waited in the outer office, the teacher explained to the principal what the situation was. The principal told Ms. Brooks he would give the boy a test. If he failed to answer any of his questions he was to go back to the 1st grade and behave. She agreed.
Harry was brought in and the conditions were explained to him and he agreed to take the test.
Principal: "What is 3 x 3?"
Harry: "9."
Principal: "What is 6 x 6?"
Harry: "36."
And so it went with every question the principal thought a 3rd grader should know.
The principal looks at Ms. Brooks and tells her, "I think Harry can go to the 3rd grade"
Ms. Brooks says to the principal, "Let me ask him some questions."
The principal and Harry both agreed.
Ms. Brooks asks, "What does a cow have four of that I have only two of?"
Harry, after a moment: "Legs."
Ms. Brooks: "What is in your pants that you have but I do not have?"
The principal wondered why would she ask such a question!
Harry replied: "Pockets."
Ms. Brooks: "What does a dog do that a man steps into?"
Harry: "Pants."
Ms. Brooks: What starts with a C, ends with a T, is hairy, oval, delicious and contains thin, whitish liquid?"
Harry: "Coconut."
The principal sat forward with his mouth hanging open.
Ms. Brooks: "What goes in hard and pink then comes out soft and sticky?"
The principal's eyes opened really wide and before he could stop the answer, Harry replied, "Bubble gum."
Ms. Brooks: "What does a man do standing up, a woman does sitting down and a dog does on three legs?"
Harry: "Shake hands."
The principal was trembling.
Ms. Brooks: "What word starts with an 'F' and ends in 'K' that means a lot of heat and excitement?"
Harry: "Firetruck."
The principal breathed a sigh of relief and told the teacher, "Put Harry in the fifth-grade, I got the last seven questions wrong.
I never quite figured out why the sexual urge of men and women differ so
much.
And I never have figured out the whole Venus and Mars thing. I have
never figured out why men think with their head and women with their
heart.
FOR EXAMPLE:
One evening last week, my girlfriend and I were getting into bed.
Well, the passion starts to heat up, and she eventually says, "I don't
feel like it, I just want you to hold me."
I said, "WHAT??!! What was that?!"
So she says the words that every boyfriend on the planet dreads to
hear...
"You're just not in touch with my emotional needs as a woman enough for
me to satisfy your physical needs as a man."
She responded to my puzzled look by saying, "Can't you just love me for
who I am and not what I do for you in the bedroom?"
Realizing that nothing was going to happen that night, I went to sleep.
The very next day I opted to take the day off of work to spend time with
her.
We went out to a nice lunch and then went shopping at a big, big unnamed
department store. I walked around with her while she tried on several
different very expensive outfits. She couldn't decide which one to take,
so I told her we'd just buy them all. She wanted new shoes to compliment
her new clothes, so I said, "Lets get a pair for each outfit."
We went on to the jewelry department where she picked out a pair of
diamond earrings. Let me tell you... she was so excited. She must have
thought I was one wave short of a shipwreck. I started to think she was
testing me because she asked for a tennis bracelet when she doesn't even
know how to play tennis.
I think I threw her for a loop when I said, "That's fine, honey." She
was almost nearing sexual satisfaction from all of the excitement.
Smiling with
excited anticipation, she finally said, "I think this is all dear, let's
go to the cashier."
I could hardly contain myself when I blurted out, "No honey, I don't
feel like it."
Her face just went completely blank as her jaw dropped with a baffled,
"WHAT?"
I then said, "Honey! I just want you to HOLD this stuff for a while.
You're just not in touch with my financial needs as a man enough for me
to satisfy your shopping needs as a woman."
And just when she had this look like she was going to kill me, I added,
"Why can't you just love me for who I am and not for the things I buy
you?"
Apparently I'm not having sex tonight either....but at least that bitch
knows I'm smarter than her.
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