1. Women choice in Husband store
A store that sells husbands has just opened in New York City , where a woman may go to choose a husband. Among the instructions at the entrance is a description of how the store operates. You may visit the store ONLY ONCE!
There are six floors and the attributes of the men increase as the shopper ascends the flights. There is, however, a catch . . .. you may choose any man from a particular floor, or you may choose to go up a floor, but you cannot go back down except to exit the building !!
So, a woman goes to the Husband Store to find a husband
On the first floor the sign on the door reads: Floor 1 - These menhave jobs.
The second floor sign reads: Floor 2 - These men have jobs and love kids.
The third floor sign reads: Floor 3 - These men have jobs, love kids, and are extremely good looking. "Wow," she thinks, but feels compelled to keep going.
She goes to the fourth floor and sign reads: Floor 4 - These men have jobs, love kids, are drop- dead good looking and help with the housework "Oh, mercy me!" she exclaims, "I can hardly stand it!"
Still, she goes to the fifth floor and sign reads: Floor 5 - These men have jobs, love kids, are drop- dead gorgeous, help with the housework, and have a strong romantic streak.
She is so tempted to stay, but she goes to the sixth floor and the sign reads:
Floor 6 - You are visitor 4,363,012 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please! Thank you for shopping at the Husband Store.
Watch your step as you exit the building, and have a nice day!
2. Misunderstanding with the B.C.
My friend is a rather old-fashioned lady, always quite delicate and elegant, especially in language. She and her husband were planning a trip to Florida so she wrote to a campground they planned to visit and asked for a reservation. She wanted to make sure that the campground was fully equipped, but didn't quite know how to ask about the toilet facilities. She just couldn't bring herself to write the word "toilet" in her letter.
After much deliberation, she finally came up with the old fashion term "bathroom commode." But when she wrote that down, she still thought she was being too forward, so she rewrote the letter and referred to the bathroom commode simply as the "B.C." "Does the campground have its own B.C.?" is what she actually wrote. Well, the campground owner wasn't old-fashioned at all, and when he got the letter, he just couldn't figure out what the woman was talking about! That "B.C." business really stumped him. After worrying about it for awhile, he showed the letter to several campers, and they couldn't imagine what the lady meant, either. So, after coming to the conclusion that the lady must be asking about the location of the local Baptist church, the owner sat down and wrote the following reply:
"Dear Madam,
I regret very much the delay in answering your letter, but I now take the pleasure of informing you that a B.C. is located 9 miles north of the campground and is capable of seating 250 people at one time.
It is located in a beautiful pine grove and is open only on Sundays and Wednesdays. I admit it is quite a distance away if you are in the habit of going regularly, but no doubt you will be pleased to know that a great number of people take their lunches along and make a day of it. They usually arrive early and stay late.
My daughter met her husband at the B.C. The last time my wife and I went was six years ago, and it was so crowded we had to stand the whole time we were there. Sometimes it is so crowded that there are five to a seat. It may interest you to know that there is a supper planned to raise money to buy more seats.
They are going to hold it in the basement of the B.C. I would like to say it pains me very much not to be able to go more regularly, but it is surely not do to lack of desire on my part. As we grow older it seems to be more of an effort, particularly in the cold weather. "If you decide to come down to our campground, perhaps I could go with you.
No comments:
Post a Comment