Husband (to wife):
2 times 2 equals four
3 times 3 equals nine
I can put mine in yours,
You can’t put yours in mine.

Wife (to husband):
2 times 2 equals four
3 times 3 equals nine
I can measure yours,
You can’t measure mine.

I took some friends out to dinner last week, and I noticed a spoon in the shirt pocket of our waiter as he handed us the menus. It seemed a little odd, but I dismissed it as a random thing until our busboy came with water & tableware; he, too, sported a spoon in his breast-pocket. I looked around the room, and all the waiters, waitresses, busboys, etc., had spoons in their pockets.

When our waiter returned to take our order, I just had to ask, “Why the spoons?” “Well,” he explained, “our parent company recently hired some Price Waterhouse efficiency experts to review all our procedures, and after months of statistical analyses, they concluded that our patrons drop spoons on the floor 73% more often than any other utensil at a frequency of 3 spoons per hour per workstation. By preparing all our workers for this contingency in advance, we can cut our trips to the kitchen down and save time … nearly 1.5 extra man hours per shift.”

Just as he concluded, a “ch-ching” came from the table behind him, and he quickly replace a fallen spoon with the one from his pocket. “I’ll grab another spoon the next time I’m in the kitchen instead of making a special trip,” he proudly explained. I was impressed. “Thanks. I had to ask.” “No problem,” he answered, then he continued to take our orders.

As the members of my dinner party took their turns, my eyes darted back & forth from each person ordering and my menu. That’s when, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a thin, black thread protruding from our waiter’s fly. Again, I dismissed it; yet I had to scan the room and, sure enough, there were other waiters & busboys with strings hanging out of their trousers.

My curiosity overrode discretion at this point, so before he could leave I had to ask. “Excuse me, but … uh … why, or what …about that string?” “Oh, yeah” he began in a quieter tone. “Not many people are that observant. That same efficiency group found we could save time in the Men’s room, too.” “How’s that?” “You see, by tying a string to the end of our, eh, selves, we can pull it out at the urinals literally hands-free and thereby eliminate the need to wash our hands, cutting time spent in the restroom by over 93%!”

“Oh, that makes sense,” I said, but then thinking thru the process, I asked, “Hey, wait-a-minute. If the string helps you pull it out, how do you get it back in?”

“Well,” he whispered, “I don’t know about the other guys, but I use my spoon.”

Three men stand before St. Peter awaiting admission into Heaven. However, St. Peter has been informed that Heaven will only admit 33% of applicants today. The admissions standard: Who died the worst death? So, St. Peter takes each of the three men aside in turn and asks them about how they died.

First man: “I’d been suspecting for a long time that my wife was cheating on me. I decided to come home early from work one afternoon and check to see if I could catch her in the act. When I got back to my apartment, I heard the water running. My wife was in the shower. I looked everywhere for the guy, but couldn’t find anyone or any trace that he had been there. The last place I looked was out on the balcony.

I found the bastard hanging from the edge, trying to get back in! So I started jumping up and down on his hands, and he yelled, but he didn’t fall. So I ran inside and got a hammer, and crushed his fingers with it until he fell twenty-five floors screaming in agony. But the fall didn’t kill the asshole. He landed in some bushes! So I dragged the refirgerator from the kitchen (it weighed about a ton), pulled it to the balcony, and hurled it over the edge. It landed right on the guy and killed him. But then I felt so horrible about what I had done, I went back into the bedroom and shot myself.”

St. Peter nodded slowly as the man recounted the story. Then, telling the first man to wait, he took the second aside.

Second man: “I lived on the twenty-seventh floor of this apartment building. I had just purchased this book on morning exercises and was practicing them on my balcony, enjoying the sunshine, when I lost my balance and fell off the edge. Luckily, I only fell about two floors before grabbing another balcony and holding on for dear life. I was trying to pull myself up when this guy came running onto what must have been his balcony and started jumping up and down on my hands. I screamed in pain, but he seemed really irate. When he finally stopped, I tried to pull myself up again, but he came out with a hammer and smashed my fingers to a pulp! I fell, and I thought I was dead, but I landed in some bushes. I couldn’t believe my second stroke of luck, but it didn’t last. The last thing I saw was this enormous refrigerator falling from the building down on top of me and crushing me.”

St. Peter comforted the man, who seemed to have several broken bones. Then he told him to wait, and turned to the third man.

Third man: “Picture this. You’re hiding, naked, in a refrigerator…”

Little Johnny walked into his dad’s bedroom one day only to catch him sitting on the side of his bed sliding a condom on, in preparation for sex with his wife.

Johnny’s father, in attempt to hide his full erection with a condom on it, bent over as if to look under the bed.

Little Johnny asked curiously “What ya doin’ dad?”

His father quickly replied, “I thought I saw a rat go underneath the bed.”

Little Johnny replied, “Whatcha gonna do, screw him?”

Two guys are walking through the woods and come across this big deep hole.

“Wow…that looks deep.”

“Sure does… toss a few pebbles in there and see how deep it is.”

They pick up a few pebbles and throw them in and wait… no noise.

“Jeeez. That is REALLY deep… here.. throw one of these great big rocks down there. Those should make a noise.”

They pick up a couple of football-sized rocks and toss them into the hole and wait… and wait. Nothing.

They look at each other in amazement. One gets a determined
look on his face and says, “Hey… over here in the weeds, there’s a railroad tie. Help me carry it over here. When we toss THAT thing in, it’s GOTTA make some noise.”

The two drag the heavy tie over to the hole and heave it in. Not a sound comes from the hole.

Suddenly, out of the nearby woods, a goat appears, running like the wind. It rushes toward the two men, then right past them, running as fast as it’s legs will carry it.

Suddenly, it leaps in the air and into the hole. The two men are astonished with what they’ve just seen…

Then, out of the woods comes a farmer who spots the men and ambles over. “Hey… you two guys seen my goat out here?”

“You bet we did! Craziest thing I ever seen! It came running like crazy and just jumped into this hole!”

“Nah”, says the farmer, “That couldn’t have been MY goat. My goat was chained to a railroad tie.”