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It is important for men to remember that, as women grow older, it becomes harder for them to maintain the same quality of housekeeping as when they were younger. When you notice this, try not to yell at them. Some are oversensitive, and there's nothing worse than an oversensitive woman.
My name is Ron. Let me relate how I handled the situation with my wife, Carol Anne. When I retired a few years ago, it became necessary for Carol Anne to get a full-time job, along with her part-time job, both for extra income and for the health benefits that we needed. Shortly after she started working, I noticed she was beginning to show her age. I usually get home from the golf club about the same time she gets home from work.
Although she knows how hungry I am, she almost always says she has to rest for half an hour or so before she starts dinner. I don't yell at her. Instead, I tell her to take her time and just wake me when she gets dinner on the table. I generally have lunch in the Men's Grill at the club, so eating out is not reasonable. I'm ready for some home-cooked grub when I hit that door. She used to do the dishes as soon as we finished eating. But now it's not unusual for them to sit on the table for several hours after dinner.
I do what I can by diplomatically reminding her several times each evening that they won't clean themselves. I know she really appreciates this, as it does seem to motivate her to get them done before she goes to bed.
Another symptom of aging is complaining, I think. For example, she will say that it is difficult for her to find time to pay the monthly bills during her lunch hour.. But, Boys, we take 'em for better or worse, so I just smile and offer encouragement. I tell her to stretch it out over two, or even three days. That way, she won't have to rush so much. I also remind her that missing lunch completely now and then wouldn't hurt her any (if you know what I mean). I like to think tact is one of my strong points.
When doing simple jobs, she seems to think she needs more rest periods. She had to take a break when she was only half-finished mowing the yard. I try not to make a scene. I'm a fair man. I tell her to fix herself a nice, big, cold glass of freshly squeezed lemonade and just sit for a while. And, as long as she is making one for herself, she may as well make one for me, too.
I know that I probably look like a saint in the way I support Carol Anne. I'm not saying that showing this much consideration is easy. Many men will find it difficult. Some will find it impossible! Nobody knows better than I do how frustrating women get as they get older. However, Guys, even if you just use a little more tact and less criticism of your aging wife because of this article, I will consider that writing it was well worthwhile. After all, we are put on this earth to help each other.
EDITOR'S NOTE: Ron died suddenly on January 31 of a perforated rectum. The police report says he was found with a Callaway extra-long 50-inch Big Bertha Driver II golf club jammed up his rear end, with barely 5 inches of grip showing, and a sledge hammer laying nearby. His wife Carol Anne was arrested and charged with murder. The all-woman jury took only 10 minutes to find her Not Guilty, accepting her defense that Ron, somehow without looking, accidentally sat down on his golf club. --
Two guys, one old, one young, Are pushing their carts around- Wal-Mart When they collide. The old guy says to the young guy, "Sorry about that. I'm looking for my wife, And I guess I wasn't paying attention To where I was going." The young guy says, "That's OK, it's a coincidence. I'm looking for my wife, too... I can't find her and I'm getting a little desperate." The old guy says, "Well, Maybe I can help you find her... What does she look like?" The young guy says, "Well, she is 27 years old, tall, With red hair, Blue eyes, is buxom...wearing no bra, Long legs, And is wearing short shorts. What does your wife look like?' To which the old guy says, “Doesn't matter, --- let's look for yours."
Two sisters, one blond and one brunette, inherit the family ranch. Unfortunately, after just a few years, they are in financial trouble... In order to keep the bank from repossessing the ranch, they need to purchase a bull so that they can breed their own stock. Upon leaving, the brunette tells her sister, 'When I get there, if I decide to buy the bull, I'll contact you to drive out after me and haul it home.' The brunette arrives at the man's ranch, inspects the bull and decides she wants to buy it. The man tells her that he will sell it for $599, no less. After paying him, she drives to the nearest town to send her sister a telegram to tell her the news. She walks into the telegraph office, and says, 'I want to send a telegram to my sister telling her that I've bought a bull for our ranch and I need her to hitch the trailer to our pickup truck and drive out here so we can haul it home.' The telegraph operator explains that he'll be glad to help her, then adds, it will cost 99 cents a word. Well, after paying for the bull, the brunette realizes that she'll only be able to send her sister one word. After a few minutes of thinking, she nods and says, 'I want you to send her the word 'comfortable.' The operator shakes his head. 'How is she ever going to know that you want her to hitch the trailer to your pickup truck and drive out here to haul that bull back to your ranch if you send her just the word 'comfortable?' The brunette explains, 'My sister's blonde. The word is big. She'll read it very slowly... 'com-for-da-bul.'
"Paperback Writer" is a masterpiece. New technology gave it a sound never heard on Earth before. The riff that opens and sustains the song is an original gem often copied and never equaled.
I admit to being partial to the Beatles......
And not Yoko.
The above makes me want to yell " Someone please free the dolphin from the net"
Beatles When I was 6 I hated the Beatles I saw them on Ed Sullivan and thought what a freak show lol Lennon had a House In Palm Beach we worked on he was quiet and very nice to work for, Some of the hangers on were a bit strange
A man who had a 25 inch long penis went to his doctor to complain that he was having a problem with this rather massive instrument and has had more than one complaint. "Doctor," he asked, in total frustration, "is there anything you can do for me?" The doctor replies, "Medically son, there is nothing I can do. But, I do know this witch who may be able to help you." So the doctor gives him directions to the witch.
The man calls upon the witch and relays his story. "Witch, my penis is 25 inches long and I need help. Can anything be done to help me? You are my last hope!" The witch stares in amazement, scratches her head, and then replies, "I think I may be able to help you. Do this. Go deep into the forest. You will find a pond. In this pond, you will find a frog sitting on a log. This frog has magic. You say to frog, will you marry me? When the frog says no, you will find five inches less to your problem." The man's face lit up and he dashed off into the forest. He called out to the frog, "Will you marry me?"
The frog looked at him dejectedly and replied, "NO." The man looked down and suddenly his penis was 5 inches shorter. "WOW," he screamed out loud, "This is great!!" But at 20 inches it was still too long, so he asked the frog again. "Frog, will you marry me?" the guy shouted. The frog rolled its eyes back in its head and screamed back, "NO!" The man felt another twitch in his penis, looked down, and it was another 5 inches shorter. The man laughed, "This is fantastic." He looked down at his penis again, 15 inches long, and reflected for a moment Fifteen inches is still a monster, just a little less would be ideal.
Grinning, he looked across the pond and yelled out, "Frog will you marry me?" The frog looked back across pond shaking its head, "How many times do I have to tell you? NO!, NO!, NO!"
God on Lawns God: Hey St. Francis, you know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there in the Midwest? What happened to the dandelions, violets, thistle and stuff I started eons ago? I had a perfect "no maintenance" garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honey bees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colors by now. But all I see are these green rectangles. St. Francis: It's the tribes that settled there, Lord. The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers "weeds" and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass. God: Grass? But it's so boring. It's not colorful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds and bees, only grubs and sod worms. It's temperamental with temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there? St. Francis: Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. The begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn. God: The spring rains and warm weather probably make grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites happy. St. Francis: Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it... sometimes twice a week. God: They cut it? Do they then bail it like hay? St. Francis: Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags. God: They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it? St. Francis: No Sir. Just the opposite. They pay to throw it away. God: Now let me get this straight. They fertilize grass so when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away? St. Francis: Yes, Sir. God: These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work. St. Francis: You are not going to believe this Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it. God: What nonsense. At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. Plus, as they rot, the leaves form compost to enhance the soil. It's a natural circle of life. St. Francis: You better sit down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away. God: No. What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter and to keep the soil moist and loose? St. Francis: After throwing away the leaves, they go out and buy something which they call mulch. The haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves. God: And where do they get this mulch? St. Francis: They cut down trees and grind them up to make the mulch. God: Enough. I don't want to think about this anymore. Sister Catherine, you're in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight? Sister Catherine: "Dumb and Dumber", Lord. It's a real stupid movie about..... God: Never mind, I think I just heard the whole story from St. Francis.
An elderly couple, who had just learned how to send text messages on their mobile phones. The wife was a romantic type and the husband was more of a no-nonsense guy. One afternoon the wife went out to meet a friend for coffee. She decided to send her husband a romantic text message and she wrote: "If you are sleeping, send me your dreams. If you are laughing, send me your smile. If you are eating, send me a bite. If you are drinking, send me a sip. If you are crying, send me your tears. I love you." The husband texted back to her: "I'm on the toilet. Please advise."
A new priest, born and raised in Texas, comes to serve in a city parish and is nervous about hearing confessions, so he asks the older priest to sit in on his sessions.
The new priest hears a couple of confessions, then the old priest asks him to step out of the confessional for a few suggestions.
The old priest suggests, "Cross your arms over your chest, and rub your chin with one hand and try saying things like 'yes, I see,' and 'yes, go on,' and 'I understand.'
The new priest crosses his arms, rubs his chin with one hand and repeats all the suggested remarks to the old priest.
The old priest says, "Now, don't you think that's a little better than slapping your knee and saying, "No shit, what happened next?"
A Mexican, an Arab, and a TEXAS girl are in the same bar when the Mexican finishes his beer, he throws his glass in the air, pulls out his pistol, and shoots the glass to pieces. He says, 'In Mexico , our glasses are so cheap we don't need to drink with the same one twice.'
The Arab, obviously impressed by this, drinks non-alcohol beer (cuz he's a Muslim!), throws it into the air, pulls out his AK-47, and shoots the glass to pieces. He says, 'In the Arab World, we have so much sand to make glasses that we don't need to drink with the same one twice either.'
The TEXAS girl, cool as a cucumber, picks up her beer, downs it in one gulp, throws the glass into the air, whips out her 45, and shoots the Mexican and the Arab. Catching her glass, setting it on the bar, and calling for a refill, she says, 'In TEXAS we have so many illegal aliens that we don't have to drink with the same ones twice.'
A young blonde was on vacation in the depths of Louisiana.
She wanted a pair of genuine alligator shoes in the worst way, but was very reluctant to pay the high prices the local vendors were asking.
After becoming very frustrated with the "no haggle" attitude of one of the shopkeepers, the blonde shouted, "Maybe I'll just go out and catch my own alligator so I can get a pair of shoes at a reasonable price!"
The shopkeeper said, "By all means, be my guest. Maybe you'll luck out and catch yourself a big one!"
Determined, the blonde turned and headed for the swamps, set on catching herself an alligator.
Later in the day, the shopkeeper was driving home, when he spotted the young woman standing waist deep in the water, shotgun in hand.
Just then, he saw a huge 9-foot alligator swimming quickly toward her. She took aim, killed the creature, and with a great deal of effort hauled it on to the swamp bank.
Lying nearby were several more of the dead creatures. The shopkeeper watched in amazement.
Just then the blonde flipped the alligator on its back. Frustrated, she shouts out, "Damn it, this one isn't wearing any shoes either!"