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Related:  Unsorted Jokes (+32430)      

Calling in Sick….

A Cat Owner’s Story Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable
because no matter how legitimate my illness, I always sense my boss
thinks I am lying. On one occasion, I had a valid reason but lied
anyway because the truth was too humiliating to reveal. I simply
mentioned that I had sustained a head injury and I hoped I would feel
up to coming in the next day. By then, I could think up a doozy to
explain the bandage on my crown. In this case, the truth hurt. I mean
it really hurt in the place men feel the most pain. The accident
occurred mainly because I conceded to my wife’s wishes to adopt a cute
little kitty. As the daily routine prescribes, I was taking my shower
after breakfast when I heard my wife call out to me from the kitchen.
“Ed!” she hearkened. “The garbage disposal is dead. Come reset it.”
“You know where the button is.” I protested through the shower
(pitter-patter). “Reset it yourself!” “I am scared!” She pleaded.
“What if it starts going and sucks me in?” Pause. “C’mon, it’ll only
take a second.” No logical assurance about how a disposal can’t start
itself will calm the fears of a person who suffers from
“Big-ol-scary-machinephobia,” a condition brought on by watching too
many Stephen King movies. It is futile to argue or explain, kind of
like Lloyd Bentsen telling Americans they are over-taxed. And if a
poltergeist did, in fact, possess the disposal, and she was ground
into round, I’d have to live with that the rest of my life. So out I
came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping to make a statement about
how her cowardly behavior was not without consequence but it was I who
would suffer. I crouched down and stuck my head under the sink to find
the button. It is the last action I remember performing. It struck
without warning. Nay, it wasn’t a hexed disposal drawing me into its
gnashing metal teeth. It was our new kitty, clawing playfully at the
dangling objects she spied between my legs. She (“Buttons” aka “the
Grater”) had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I took
the bait under the sink. At precisely the second I was most
vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged
them with her needle-like claws. Now when men feel pain or even sense
danger anywhere close to their masculine region, they lose all
rational thought to control orderly bodily movements. Instinctively,
their nerves compel the body to contort inwardly, while rising
upwardly at a violent rate of speed. Not even a well-trained monk
could calmly stand with his groin supporting the full weight of a
kitten and rectify the situation in a step-by-step procedure. Wild
animals are sometimes faced with a “fight or flight” syndrome; men, in
this predicament, choose only the “flight” option. Fleeing straight
up, I knew at that moment how a cat feels when it is alarmed. It was a
dismal irony. But, whereas cats seek great heights to escape, I never
made it that far. The sink and cabinet bluntly impeded my ascent; the
impact knocked me out cold. When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics
stood over me. Having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics
snorted as they tried to conduct their work while suppressing their
hysterical laughter. My wife told me I should be flattered. At the
office, colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me. I kept
silent, claiming it was too painful to talk. “What’s the matter, cat
got your tongue?” If they had only known.

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Related:  Animals (+5195)      

Some race horses staying in a stable. One of them starts to boast about his track record. “In the last 15 races, I’ve won 8 of them!”

Another horse breaks in, “Well in the last 27 races, I’ve won 19!!”

“Oh that’s good, but in the last 36 races, I’ve won 28!”, says another, flicking his tail.

At this point, they notice that a greyhound dog has been sitting there listening. “I don’t mean to boast,” says the greyhound, “but in my last 90 races, I’ve won 88 of them!”

The horses are clearly amazed. “Wow!” says one, after a hushed silence. “A talking dog.”

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Related:  Blonde (+4661), Q & A (+15908)      

Q. Why do blondes have bruised belly buttons?

A. Because they have blond boyfriends

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Related:  Blonde (+4661)      

This blonde and her boyfriend were sitting in a hot tub when the blonde said to her boyfriend, “Is it true that if you pull you finger out, I’ll sink?”

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Related:  Unsorted Jokes (+32430)      

A supermarket had a sale on boneless chicken breasts, and a woman I
know intended to stock up. At the store, however, she was
disappointed to find only a few skimpy prepackaged portions of the
poultry, so she complained to the butcher. “don’t worry, ya ,” he
said. “I’ll pack some more trays and have them ready for you by the
time you finish shopping.”

Several aisles later, my friend heard the butcher’s voice boom over
the public-address system: “Will the lady who wanted bigger breasts
please meet me at the back of the store.”

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