A lady found out that her dog (a Schnauzer) could hardly hear, so she took it to the veterinarian. He found that the problem was excessive hair in the dog's ears. He trimmed and cleaned both ears and the dog could then hear just fine.
The vet then told her that, if she wanted to keep this from recurring, she should go to the store and get some "Nair" hair remover and rub it in the dog's ears once a month.
She went to the store to buy the "Nair" hair remover.
At the register, the pharmacist told her, "If you're going to use this under your arms, don't use deodorant for a few days."
The lady said, "I'm not using it under my arms.”
The pharmacist said, "Oh! Okay! If you're using it on your legs, don't use body lotion for a couple of days, too."
Exasperated, she replied, "I'm not using it on my legs either. If you must know, I'm using it on my Schnauzer."
The pharmacist says, "Oh! Well...uh...Okay, stay off your bicycle for about a week."
An old farmer stopped by the local mechanics shop to have his truck fixed. They couldn't do it while he waited, so he said he didn't live far and would just walk home.
On the way home he stopped at the hardware store and bought a bucket and a gallon of paint. He then stopped by the feed store and picked up a couple of chickens and a goose. However, struggling outside the store he now had a problem - how to carry his entire purchases home.
While he was scratching his head, he was approached by a little old lady who told him she was lost. She asked, 'Can you tell me how to get to 1603 Mockingbird Lane?'
The farmer said, 'Well, as a matter of fact, my farm is very close to that house. I would walk you there but I can't carry this lot.'
The old lady suggested, 'Why don't you put the can of paint in the bucket. Carry the bucket in one hand, put a chicken under each arm and carry the goose in your other hand?'
'Why thank you very much,' he said and proceeded to walk the old girl home.
On the way he says 'Let's take my short cut and go down this alley. We'll be there in no time.'
The little old lady looked him over cautiously then said, 'I am a lonely widow without a husband to defend me. How do I know that when we get in the alley you won't hold me up against the wall, pull up my skirt, and have your way with me?'
The farmer said, 'Holy smokes lady! I'm carrying a bucket, a gallon of paint, two chickens, and a goose. How in the world could I possibly hold you up against the wall and do that?'
The old lady replied, 'Set the goose down, cover him with the bucket, put the paint on top of the bucket, and I'll hold the chickens.
Ethel was a bit of a demon in her wheelchair, and loved to charge around the nursing home, taking corners on one wheel and getting up to maximum speed on the long corridors.
Because the poor woman was one sandwich short of a picnic the other residents tolerated her and some of them actually joined in.
One day Ethel was speeding up one corridor when a door opened and Kooky Clarence stepped out with his arm outstretched. 'STOP!' he shouted in a firm voice. 'Have you got a license for that thing?' Ethel fished around in her handbag and pulled out a Kit Kat wrapper and held it up to him. 'OK' he said, and away Ethel sped down the hall.
As she took the corner near the TV lounge on one wheel, weird Harold popped out in front of her and shouted 'STOP! Have you got proof of insurance?' Ethel dug into her handbag, pulled out a drink coaster and held it up to him. Harold nodded and said 'On your way, Ma'am.'
As Ethel neared the final corridor, Crazy Craig stepped out in front of her, Butt- Naked, and holding his 'You-Know- What' in his hand. 'Oh, good grief,' yelled Ethel, 'Not that Damn Breathalyzer Test again.'
Sorry! I am interrupting this joke fest to update you on my nephew, David.
As you recall, David stepped off the third story balcony so he could go for a walk and broke both ankles and his right leg below the knee. He also compressed some disk and broke his back. After stabilizing him in Fort Walton Beach, he was flown to Atlanta to be near family – me and my brother Stephen.
They took him down for surgery that day. Stephen and I set in the waiting room for three hours before finding out that they didn’t operate. But no one knew why he was brought back to the floor. But Stephen, who has Parkinson’s, was getting weak, so I drove him home.
The next day I and my brother and son-in-law drove down to Destine to retrieve David’s car and stuff from the condo. David was not operated on as they said he would be.
They moved him to a semi-private room. They plan to operate the next day. Didn’t happen! But I was picking up stuff for preparation of moving into another house in a few months so I called. They would not tell me anything over the phone, even though they know me and stuff. But it’s the rules. I guess it’s because I am a Naturalized Citizen and not entitle to common courtesy. Maybe if I spoke Spanish…
So Monday, Stephen and I walk into the room to find David with his arms strapped to the bed and him out of his head. It seems that the nurse walked in on him sitting on the side of the bed with his back brace off, pulling the needles out of his arm and about to try walking off.
I talked to him (you have to shout because he only has 20% hearing in his right ear, deaf in the left one. ) He calmed down some, but was still saying stuff. Actually it was funny talking and listening to him ramble. But they still didn’t have him on the operating list. Maybe Tuesday! We ask to talk to the Dr. or someone. He is not available but will call me.
So I pick up Stephen and I tell him I am gonna find out something or security will be called. He knows my charm and persuasive ability when I decide I want something. He begged me to be nice. And I was. I got the nurse in the room and gently explained my frustration and desire to talk to the doctor or hospital administrator or someone NOW. I then loosened my grip on her throat and let her slide back to the floor so she could go get someone.
About fifteen minutes later a doctor came in to talk to us. He seemed to be put out because he actually had to come to a hospital room and talk to someone. I just smiled at him in a way that let him know I didn’t give a harry rats ass what he thought or felt. I just wanted answers. I got them.
They haven’t operated on David because of the excessive swelling in the legs and ankles. Why someone couldn’t tell us that to start with I don’t know. But they will have to wait on the swelling to do down before they can put in pins and rods. Two weeks. Then four to six weeks of bed rest with no load bearing weight on his feet. Then he will have to go through a month or so of therapy to learn to walk again.
He is talking out of his head because he is having the DT’s. Funny stuff!
Finally, two therapist come in to get him to sit up in bed and slide his butt into a wheel chair. They cannot get him up as he is in such pain and actually yelling (he has a very high tolerance for pain so he had to be in agony.) They let him rest, but I had to wonder. Two strong nurses couldn’t get him up with a back brace on, yet he took the damn thing off and set up on his own. I assumed that he rolled on his side and pushed himself up with his arms. He is very strong and I can see him doing that.
Anyway, he will be having the DT’s for the next couple of days, and then Stephen and I will become guardians by having him sign some papers.
I won’t bother you with anymore updates; I just thought this was a strange few days.
A cowboy, who just moved to Wyoming from Texas, walks into a bar and orders three mugs of beer. He sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more.
The bartender approaches and tells the cowboy, "You know, a mug goes flat after I draw it. It would taste better if you bought one at a time."
The cowboy replies, "Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is in Arizona, the other is in Colorado. When we all left our home in Texas, we promised that we'd drink this way to remember the days when we drank together. So I'm drinking one beer for each of my brothers and one for myself."
The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there.
The cowboy becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way. He orders three mugs and drinks them in turn.
One day, he comes in and only orders two mugs. All the regulars take notice and fall silent. When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, "I don't want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your loss."
The cowboy looks quite puzzled for a moment, then a light dawns in his eyes and he laughs.
"Oh, no, everybody's just fine," he explains, "It's just that my wife and I joined the Baptist Church and I had to quit drinking."
An elderly Italian man who lived on the outskirts of Rimini, Italy, went to the local church for confession.
When the priest slid open the panel in the confessional, the man said: "Father, during World War II, a beautiful Jewish woman from our neighborhood knocked urgently on my door and asked me to hide her from the Nazis. So I hid her in my attic."
The priest replied: "That was a wonderful thing you did, and you have no need to confess that."
"There is more to tell, Father. She started to repay me with sexual favors. This happened several times a week, and sometimes twice on Sundays."
The priest said, "That was a long time ago and by doing what you did, you placed the two of you in great danger, but two people under those circumstances can easily succumb to the weakness of the flesh. However, if you are truly sorry for your actions, you are indeed forgiven."
"Thank you, Father. That's a great load off my mind. I do have one more question."