Sonny

I clean house every other day. Today is the other day.

If you write in the dust, please don't date it!

I would cook dinner but I can't find the can opener!

A clean kitchen is the sign of a wasted life.

My house was clean last week, too bad you missed it!

I came, I saw, I decided to order take out.

If you don't like my standards of cooking ...lower your standards.

Although you'll find our house a mess, Come in, sit down, converse.

It doesn't always look like this: Some days it's even worse.

A messy kitchen is a happy kitchen, and this kitchen is delirious.

A balanced diet is a cookie in each hand!

Thou shalt not weigh more than thy refrigerator.

Blessed are they who can laugh at themselves for they shall never cease to be amused.

Countless number of people have eaten in this kitchen and gone on to lead normal lives.

My next house will have no kitchen ... just vending machines.

I'd live life in the fast lane, but I am married to a speed bump.

Mother does not live here any more, clean up your own mess.

Martha Stewart doesn't live here!!

A little girl had just finished her first week of school.

'I'm just wasting my time,' she said to her mother.

'I can't read, I can't write, and they won't let me talk!

While taking a routine vandalism report at an elementary school, I was interrupted by a little girl about 6 years old.

Looking up and down at my uniform, she asked, 'Are you a cop?

Yes,' I answered and continued writing the report.

My mother said if I ever needed help I should ask the police. Is that right?'

'Yes, that's right,' I told her.

'Well, then,' she said as she extended her foot toward me, 'would you please tie my shoe?'

"Don't laugh!" said the patient, Ed.

"Of course I won't laugh," the doctor said. "I'm a professional. In over twenty years I've never laughed at a patient."

"Okay then," Ed said, and proceeded to drop his trousers, revealing the tiniest 'hoo-ha' the doctor had ever seen. It could not have been bigger than the size of an AAA battery.

Unable to control himself, the doctor started giggling, and then fell laughing to the floor.

Ten minutes later, he was able to struggle to his feet and regain his composure. "I'm so sorry," said the doctor. "I really am. I do not know what came over me. On my honor as a doctor and a gentleman, I promise it will not happen again. Now what seems to be the problem?"

"It's swollen," Ed replied.

I worked in the woods as a lumberjack, but I just couldn't hack it, so they gave me the ax.

I was a tailor, but I just wasn't suited for it. It was a so-so job.

I worked in a muffler factory but that was exhausting.

I was a barber, but I just couldn't cut it.

I tried to be a chef. I thought it would add a little spice to my life,but I just didn't have the thyme.

I was a deli worker, but any way I sliced it, I couldn't cut the mustard.

I was a musician, but eventually I found I wasn't noteworthy.

I studied a long time to become a doctor, but I didn't have the patients.

I worked in a shoe factory; I tried but I just didn't fit in.

I became a professional fisherman, but discovered that I couldn't live on my net income.

I always wanted to be a witch, so I tried that for a spell.

I managed to get a good job working for a pool maintenance company, but the work was just too draining.

I got a job at a zoo feeding giraffes but I was fired because I wasn't up to it.

I got a job in a health club, but they said I wasn't fit for the job.

I found being an electrician interesting, but the work was shocking.

I got a job as a historian but I realized there was no future in it.

I was working at Starbucks, but I had to quit because it was always the same old grind.

Makes Ya Think:

Finally, the riddle is solved.

A social-scientist has arrived at this simple and logical explanation.
When the bride, accompanied by her father, starts to walk slowly down
the long aisle, she sees the altar at the end and hears the choir
singing a hymn. Walking down the aisle, the conditioning process starts
where the brain absorbs these three stimuli:

Aisle, altar, and hymn.

She becomes mesmerized as she continually reinforces these perceptions:

Aisle, altar, hymn……Aisle, altar, hymn……Aisle, altar, hymn.

And finally, as she stops beside the groom, the conditioning process is
complete. She looks up at him smiling sweetly and keeps saying to herself:

'I'll alter him!’

HERE ENDETH THE LESSON!

A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase.

You can open all your own jars.

Dry cleaners and hair cutters don't rob you blind.

You can go to the bathroom without a support group.

You can leave the motel bed unmade.

You can kill your own food.

You get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness.

Wedding plans take care of themselves.

If someone forgets to invite you to something, he or she can still be your friend.

Your underwear is $10 for a three-pack.

If you are 34 and single, nobody notices.

Everything on your face stays its original color.

You can quietly enjoy a car ride from the passenger's seat.

Three pairs of shoes are more than enough.

You don't have to clean if the meter reader is coming.

Car mechanics tell you the truth.

You can quietly watch a game with your buddy for hours without ever thinking: "He must be mad at me."

Gray hair and wrinkles only add character.

Wedding dress - $2,000. Tuxedo rental - 75 bucks.

You can drop by to see a friend without bringing a little gift.

If another guy shows up at the party in the same outfit, you just might become lifelong friends.

Your pals will never trap you with: "So, notice anything different?"

You are not expected to know the names of more than five colors.

You know which way to turn a nut on a bolt.

You almost never have strap problems in public.

You are unable to see wrinkles in your clothes.

The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades.

You don't have to shave below your neck.

Your belly usually hides your big hips.

One wallet and one pair of shoes, one color, all seasons.

She pauses, reflects and then says, "Well, then, let it
read, 'Billy Bob died'."

Amused at the woman's thrift, the editor says, "Sorry ma'am,
there is a 7 word minimum on all obituaries."

Only a little flustered, she thinks things over and in a few
seconds says, "In that case, let it read, 'Billy Bob died - 1983
Pick-up for sale.'"