~~ GYPSY JOKES ANTHOLOGY ~~

WOMEN

WOMEN DRIVERS

Driving to the office this morning on the Interstate, I looked over to my left and there was a woman in a brand new Cadillac doing 65  mph with her face up next to her rear view mirror putting on her eyeliner.

I looked away for a couple seconds and when I looked back she was halfway over in my lane, still working on that makeup.

As a man, I don't scare easily. But she scared me so much; I  dropped my  electric shaver, which knocked the donut out of my other hand. In all the confusion of trying to straighten out the car using my knees  against the steering wheel, it knocked my cell phone away from my ear which fell into the coffee between my legs, splashed, and burned Big Jim and the Twins, ruined the damn phone, soaked my trousers,  and disconnected an important call.

Damn women drivers!

IMPORTANT STUFF

An old lady was standing at the railing of the cruise ship holding her hat on tightly so that it would not blow off in the wind.  A gentleman approached her and said:  "Pardon me, madam.  I do not intend to be forward, but did you know that your dress is blowing up in this high wind?"  

"Yes, I know."  said the lady, "I need both hands to hold onto this hat." 

"But, madam, you must know that your privates are exposed!" said the gentleman in earnest. 

The woman looked down, then back up at the man and replied,  "Sir, anything you see down there is 85 years old.  I just bought this hat yesterday" 

SWEET OLD DEARS

Ethel and Mabel, two elderly widows, were watching the folks go by from their park bench.

Ethel said,  "You know, Mabel, I've been reading this 'Sex and Marriage' book and all they talk about is 'mutual orgasm'.  'Mutual orgasm' here and mutual orgasm' there - that's all they talk about.   Tell me, Mabel, when your husband was alive, did you two ever  have mutual orgasm?" 

Mabel thought for a long while. Finally, she shook her head and said, "No, I think we had State Farm." 

 

REMININSCING

Three old ladies were sitting side by side in their retirement home reminiscing. The first lady recalled shopping at the green grocers and demonstrated with her hands, the length and thickness of a cucumber she could buy for a penny. 

The second old lady nodded, adding that onions used to be much bigger and cheaper also, and demonstrated the size of two big onions she could buy for a penny a piece.

The third old lady remarked, "I can't hear a word you're saying, but I remember the guy you're talking about." 

 

AT THE MOVIES!!!!

This is dedicated to all women everywhere who have ever had to deal with a public toilet. And it finally explains to all YOU MEN why it takes us so long!

 

My mother was a fanatic about public toilets. As a little girl, she'd bring me in the stall, teach me to wad up toilet paper and wipe the seat.  Then, she'd carefully lay strips of toilet paper to cover the seat. Finally, she'd instruct, "Never, never sit on a  public toilet seat." And she'd demonstrate "The Stance," which consisted of balancing over the toilet in a sitting position without actually letting any of your flesh make contact with the toilet seat. But by this time, I'd have peed down my leg. And we'd go home.

 

That was a long time ago. I've had lots of experience with public toilets since then, but I'm still not particularly fond of public toilets, especially those with powerful, redeye sensors. Those toilets know when you want them to flush. They are psychic toilets. But I always confuse their psychic ability by following my mother's advice and assuming The Stance. 

 

The Stance is excruciatingly difficult to maintain when one's bladder is especially full. This is most likely to occur after watching a full-length feature film. You know what I mean. You drink a two-liter cup of Diet Coke, then sit still through a three-hour saga because, for God's sake, even if you didn't wipe or wash your hands in the bathroom, you'd still miss the pivotal part of the movie or the second scene, in which they flash the leading man's naked derriere. So, you cross your legs and you hold it.

 

And you hold it until that first credit rolls and you sprint to the bathroom, about ready to explode all over your internal organs.  And at the bathroom, you find a line of women that makes you think there's a half-price sale on Mel Gibson's underwear in there. So, you wait and smile politely at all the other ladies, also crossing their legs and smiling politely. And you finally get closer. You check for feet under the stall doors. Every one is occupied. You hope no one is doing frivolous things behind those stall doors, like blowing her nose or checking the contents of her wallet.

 

Finally, a stall door opens and you dash, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter. You hang your handbag on the door hook, yank   down your pants and assume The Stance. Relief. More relief. Then your thighs begin to shake. You'd love to sit down but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold The Stance as your thighs experience a quake that would   register an eight on the Richter scale.

 

To take your mind off it, you reach for the toilet paper. Might as well be ready when you are done. The toilet paper dispenser is empty. Your thighs shake more. You remember the tiny napkin you wiped your fingers on after eating buttered popcorn. It would have to do. You crumble it in the puffiest way possible. It is still smaller than your thumbnail. Someone pushes open your stall door because the latch doesn't work and your pocketbook whams you in the head. "Occupied!" you scream as you reach out for the door, dropping your buttered popcorn napkin in a puddle and falling backward, directly onto the toilet seat.

 

You get up quickly, but it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with all the germs and life forms on the bare seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper, not that there was any, even if you had enough time to. And your mother would be utterly   ashamed of you if she knew, because her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, "You don't know what kind of diseases you could get." And by this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, sending up a stream of water like a fountain and then it suddenly sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the toilet paper dispenser for fear of being sucked down to China!

 

At that point, you give up. You're finished peeing. You're soaked by the splashing water. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a Chicklet wrapper you found in your pocket, then slink out  inconspicuously to the sinks. You can't figure out how to operate the sinks with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past a line of women, still waiting, cross-legged and unable to smile politely at this point.

One kind soul at the very end of the line points out that you are trailing a piece of toilet paper on your shoe as long as the Mississippi River. You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and say warmly, "Here you might need this."

 

At this time, you see your spouse, who has entered, used and exited his bathroom and read a copy of War and Peace while waiting for you. "What took you so long?" he asks, annoyed.  This is when you kick him sharply in the shin and go home.

FOR THE LADIES

I've seen two shows lately that went on and on about how mid-life is a great time for women. Just last week Oprah had a whole show on how great menopause will be.... Puhleeeeeeeze!

I've had a few thoughts of my own and would like to share them with you. Whether you are pushing 40, 50, 60 (or maybe even just pushing your luck) you'll probably relate.

 

Mid-life is when the growth of hair on our legs slows down. This gives us plenty of time to care for our newly acquired mustache.

 

In mid-life women no longer have upper arms, we have wingspans. We are no longer women in sleeveless shirts, we are flying squirrels in drag.

 

Mid-life is when you can stand naked in front of a mirror and you can see your rear without turning around.

 

Mid-life is when you go for a mammogram and you realize that this is the only time someone will ask you to appear topless.

 

Mid-life is when you want to grab every firm young lovely in a tube top and scream, "Listen honey, even the Roman empire fell and those will too."

 

Mid-life brings wisdom to know that life throws us curves and we're sitting on our biggest ones.

 

Mid-life is when you look at your-know-it-all, beeper-wearing teenager and think: "For this I have stretch marks?"

 

In mid-life your memory starts to go. In fact the only thing we can retain is water.

 

Mid-life means that your Body By Jake now includes Legs By Rand McNally -- more red and blue lines than an accurately scaled map of Wisconsin.

 

Mid-life means that you become more reflective... You start pondering the "big" questions. What is life? Why am I here? How much Healthy Choice ice cream can I eat before it's no longer a healthy choice?

 

But mid-life also brings with it an appreciation for what is important. We realize that breasts sag, hips expand and chins double, but our loved ones make the journey worthwhile.

 

Would any of you trade the knowledge that you have now for the body you had way back when? Maybe our bodies simply have to expand to hold all the wisdom and love we've acquired.

 

That's my philosophy and I'm sticking to it!

REMEMBER: "Stressed" spelled backward is "desserts."

 

 

GIRL VS. BOY

You may relate???    (For all the Calvin & Hobbes fans out there...)

   Remember the book "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus"? Here's a prime example offered by an English professor at an American University.

 

"Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right.   One of you will then write the first paragraph of a short story. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back and forth.

 

Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking and anything you wish to say must be written on the   paper. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."

 

The following was actually turned in by two of my English students: Rebecca (last name deleted), and Gary (last name deleted).

   ----------------------------------------------------------------

STORY:   (first paragraph by Rebecca)

At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was   suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.   -----------------------------------------------------------

(second paragraph by Gary)

Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of   an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A. S. Harris to Geostation 17,???*?? he said into his   transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.   ----------------------------------------------------------

(Rebecca)

He bumped his head and died almost immediately but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings  for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon

  4.  "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things round her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.   ---------------------------------------------------------

   (Gary)

Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through the congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered   the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret Mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably  massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid, Laurie and 85 million other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table.  "We can't allow this! I'm going to veto that treaty!  Let's blow 'em out of the sky!"   ----------------------------------------------------------

   (Rebecca)

   This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.   ----------------------------------------------------------

   (Gary)

   Yeah? Well, you're a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of F*NG TEA??? Oh no, I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels."

   ----------------------------------------------------------

   (Rebecca)

   butthole.

   ----------------------------------------------------------

   (Gary) 

  Bitch.

   --------------------------------------------------------

   (Rebecca)

   DICK!

   ---------------------------------------------------------

   (Gary)

   Slut.

   ---------------------------------------------------------

   (Rebecca)

   Get hosed

   ----------------------------------------------------------

   (Gary)

   Eat crap

   ---------------------------------------------------------

   (Rebecca)

   SCREW YOU - YOU NEANDERTHAL!!!   ----------------------------------------------------------

   (Gary)

   Go drink some tea - whore.   **********************************************

   (teacher)  

A+ - I really liked this one.

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