Category: Family

Train Departure

A mother was working in the kitchen listening to her son playing with his new electric train in the living room. She heard the train stop and her son said, “All of you sons of bitches who want to get off, get the hell off now, cause this is the last stop! And all you sons of bitches who are returning and want to get on, get your asses on the train now, cause we’re going down the tracks!”

The mother went into the living room and told her son, “We don’t use that kind of language in this house. Now go to your room and stay there for TWO HOURS. When you come out, you may go back and play with your train, but only if you use nice language.”

Two hours later, the boy came out of the bedroom and resumed playing with his train. Soon the train stopped and the mother heard her son say, “All passengers who are disembarking the train, please remember to take all of your belongings with you. We thank you for riding with us today and hope your trip was a pleasant one. We hope you will ride with us again soon.”

She hears the little boy continue, “For those of you just boarding, we ask you to stow all of your hand luggage under your seat. Remember, there is no smoking on the train. We hope you will have a pleasant and relaxing journey with us today.”

Then, the child added, “And for those of you who are pissed off about the TWO HOUR delay, see the bitch in the kitchen.”

Ten Simple Rules For Dating My Daughter

Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you’d better be delivering a package, because you’re sure not picking anything up.

Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter’s body, I will remove them.

Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don’t take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.

Rule Four:
I’m sure you’ve been told that in today’s world, sex without utilizing a “barrier method” of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.

Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is “early.”

Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.

Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don’t you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?

Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter:
Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka – zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which features chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.

Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car – there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.

An Unusual Cuckoo Clock

Just after I got married, I was invited out for a night with “the boys.” I told the misses that I would be home by midnight … promise!

Well, the yarns were being spun and the grog was going down easy, and at around 3 a.m. full as a boot, I went home.

Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock started, and cuckooed three times. Quickly I realized she’d probably wake up, so I cuckooed another nine times. I was really proud of myself, having the quick wittedness — even when smashed — to escape a possible conflict.

Next morning the misses asked me what time I got in and I told her 12 o’clock. Whew! Got away with that one!

She then told me that we needed a new cuckoo clock. When I asked her why she said, “Well, it cuckooed three times, said, ‘dang it,’ cuckooed another four times, farted, cuckooed another three times, cleared its throat, and cuckooed twice and giggled.”

Redneck Letter From Mom

Dear Redneck Son–

I’m writing this letter slow because I know you can’t read fast.

We don’t live where we did when you left home. Your dad read in the newspaper that most accidents happen within 20 miles from your home, so we moved.

I won’t be able to send you the address because the last Arkansas family that lived here took the house numbers when they moved so that they wouldn’t have to change their address.

This place is really nice. It even has a washing machine. I’m not sure it works so well though: Last week I put a load in and pulled the chain and haven’t seen them since.

The weather isn’t bad here. It only rained twice last week; the first time for three days and the second time for four days.

About that coat you wanted me to send you, your Uncle Stanley said it would be too heavy to send in the mail with the buttons on, so we cut them off and put them in the pockets.

John locked his keys in the car yesterday. We were really worried because it took him two hours to get me and your father out.

Your sister had a baby this morning; but I haven’t found out what it is yet so I don’t know if you’re an aunt or an uncle. The baby looks just like your brother…

Uncle Ted fell in a whiskey vat last week. Some men tried to pull him out, but he fought them off playfully and drowned. We had him cremated and he burned for three days.

Three of your friends went off a bridge in a pick-up truck. Ralph was driving. He rolled down the window and swam to safety. Your other two friends were in back. They drowned because they couldn’t get the tailgate down.

There isn’t much more news at this time. Nothing much has happened.

Love, Mom

P.S. I was going to send you some money but the envelope was already sealed.

Hold on to that Towel

A man is getting into the shower just as his wife is finishing up her shower when the doorbell rings. After a few seconds of arguing over which one should go and answer the doorbell, the wife gives up, quickly wraps herself up in a towel and runs downstairs. When she opens the door, there stands Bob, the next door neighbor. Before she says a word, Bob says, “I’ll give you 500 dollars to drop that towel that you have on.” After thinking for a moment, the woman drops her towel and stands naked in front of Bob. After a few seconds, Bob hands her 500 dollars and leaves.

Confused, but excited about her good fortune, the woman wraps back up in the towel and goes back upstairs. When she gets back to the bathroom, her husband asks from the shower. “Who was that?” It was Bob the next door neighbor,” she replies. “Great,” the husband says, “did he say anything about the 500 dollars he owes me?”

Don’t Lie to Your Mother

John’s mother was visiting from a nearby town. During dinner one evening, his mother couldn’t help but notice how beautiful John’s roommate was. She had long been suspicious of a relationship between John and the roommate and this only made her curious. Over the course of the evening, while watching the two interact, she started to wonder if there was more between John and the roommate than met the eye. Reading his mom’s thought, John volunteered, “I know what you must be thinking, but I assure you, Julie and I are just roommates.”

About a week later, Julie came to John and said, “Ever since your mother came to dinner, I’ve been unable to find the beautiful silver gravy ladle. You don’t suppose she took it, do you?” John said, “Well, I doubt it, but I’ll write her a letter just to be sure.” So he sat down and wrote:

Dear Mother,
I’m not saying that you “did” take a gravy ladle from my house, and I’m not saying that you “did not” take a gravy ladle; but the fact remains, that one has been missing ever since you were here for dinner.”
Love,
John

Several days later, John received a letter from his mother which read:

Dear Son,
I’m not saying that you “do” sleep with Julie, and I’m not saying that you “do not” sleep with Julie, but the fact remains, that if she were sleeping in her own bed, she would have found the gravy ladle by now
Love,
Mom