Whoever named
it necking is a poor judge of anatomy.
Groucho Marx
Ah, marriage. I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror one evening admiring my reflection, when I posed this question to my wife of 30 years: “Will you still love me when I’m old, fat, and balding?”
She answered, “I do.”
Michael Jordan, Moss Point, Mississippi
On the first night of their
honeymoon, the husband isn’t sure how to tell his bride about his stinky feet and smelly socks, while the wife is wondering how to break the news to him about her awful breath, which so far, she’s been able to cover up. After some soul-searching, the
husband gathers his nerve and says, “I have a confession.”
She draws closer, peers into his eyes, and says, “Darling, so do I.”
Recoiling, he says, “Don’t tell me—you’ve eaten my socks.”
Submitted by Justin Ezzi,
Wilmington, California
A husband and wife had been married for 60 years and had no
secrets except for one: The woman kept in her closet a shoe box that
she forbade her husband from ever opening. But when she was on her deathbed—and with her blessing—he opened the box and found a
crocheted doll and $95,000 in cash.
“My mother told me that the secret to a happy marriage was to never
argue,” she explained. “Instead, I should keep quiet and crochet a doll.”
Her husband was touched. Only one doll was in the box—that meant she’d been angry with him only once in 60 years. “But what about all this money?” he asked.
“Oh,” she said, “that’s the money
I made from selling the dolls.”
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