Mixed Metaphors

I write my own jokes. Some might even call it humor. I like to attribute it to my smart-ass gene. I've been told that I get this from my great, great, grand step- uncle Tex Bonus. Or maybe it was my uncle's niece on my mother's side, Daisy, the Grand Duchess of Portland, Maine. No one really knows.

A lot of people (3) have asked me where I get my ideas. I usually reply, "I dunno. Maybe it was something I ate."

More than likely, I'm just repeating the shit I hear the voices say.

Over the past several months, a lot of my friends (6) have heard me say the following snippets. I call them snippets because "one liners" doesn't apply. (Mostly because they're more than one line.)

There is one good thing I have to say about my ex-wife - she was into anal. No matter how clean I wanted the house, she'd go along with it.

I read that Pillsbury just bought the Trojan company. Their first new product is a self rising condom.

Politics is one of the few endeavors to allow us Absolute Certainty with Virtually No Information… …Religion and Meteorology are the other two.

I was wondering, if AA has a 12 step program, does AAA have an 18 step program?

You know how high heels can tighten a girl's calves and make her ass look great? Well, I once saw a lady who was so ugly her ass made her shoes look bad.

A lot of people think only tight, hard bodies go to nudist resorts. Actually, a lot of women go because they can't go to regular beaches. I mean, where would they even find a 10 piece bikini?

The other day a friend told me she bought a puppy on the internet. I just stared at her a second, then said, "Wow. What kind of printer do you have?

Several years ago I got a hot tub for my wife. It was the best trade I ever made.

Mommy, what's a mixed metaphor? Your daddy is. Why, Mommy? Because he is hung like Einstein and is as smart as a horse.

So that's what a metaphor is!

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Stand Up - Sit Down!

Every time I've tried to do stand up I have been told to sit down.

Maybe it's my timing. Maybe it's my delivery. Maybe it's my audience. Like, I remember telling my now ex-wife one time that "marriage is the only thing that you cannot idiot-proof. Somebody always underestimates the bigger idiot."

Then we got into this whole thing about how she has never underestimated me. Blah, blah, blah.

So, never wanting to win a good battle, I forged on. "You know, I like to eat an apple right after smoking a cigar. It tends to refresh my pallet. Which is probably why I also like to eat lobster right after sex." After a long slow beat she grudgingly said, "O.K., why?" "Well, I still have that fishy taste... but it's classier."

Having just re-read that last line, I'm pretty sure it's not my timing.

Later, after half an episode of Jeopardy, things calmed down a little and I asked her if she knew why they used to call the female sailors W.A.V.E.S. She was silent for a long time. Pretty much through the whole next commercial. Then, just when I thought she had forgotten my question, she said, "Why!" "I think it was because vaginal swabs was already taken."

That was pretty much it for that night. The next morning, as she was getting dressed for work. I was still in bed, lying on my side, making circles on the sheet with my finger. I looked up at her as she was pulling some sexy under-thing on, back lit by the morning sun streaming through the blinds. Innocently, I asked, "How do you tell if a woman over fifty is HOT?" "I dunno," she said distractedly. "How?" "She dresses in layers" I answered.

I honestly don't think it is my delivery, either.

That night, over dinner, she commented that I could be a "professional comic." "Really?" I asked hopefully. "Certainly. A genius makes the difficult look easy." I puffed out my chest preparing to say something witty when she continued. "But a professional... a professional makes the routine look difficult."

While I was brooding through Wheel of Fortune, I kept thinking of all the things I should have said. Finally I turned to her and blurted, "You know, all I've ever wanted to be was a regular guy. Ex-Lax is just a Band-Aid."

When she didn't bite on that one I kept the momentum going. "Speaking of professional... I don't know if you know it, but I considered a number of professions over the years. At one time I was convinced that I wanted to be a dentist. But then I realized I just couldn't bear to see that many women spit." She got it. I know she got it. But she never even looked up. So I went on, "Then I thought, maybe I'll be a gynecologist. But after a while, I figured that I'd just end up taking my work home with me."

All I could hear were the sound of crickets. And, I swear, a tumble weed rolled past my recliner. I couldn't understand it. It must be the audience.

Later that year, I got a hot tub for my wife. It was the best trade I ever made.

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