Duties of Wives
Three men were sitting together bragging about how they had given
their new wives duties.
Terry had married a woman from Greece and bragged that he had told his
wife she needed to do all the dishes and housework.
He said that it took a couple days but on the third day he came home
to a clean house and the dishes were all washed and put away.
Jimmie had married a woman from Italy. He bragged that he had given
his wife orders that she was to do all the cleaning, dishes, and the
He told them that the first day he didn't see any results, but the
next day it was better. By the third day, his house was clean, the
dishes were done, and he had a huge dinner on the table.
The third man had married a Newcastle girl.
He boasted that he told her that her duties were to keep the house
cleaned, dishes washed, laundry and ironing twice a week, lawns mowed,
windows cleaned and hot meals on the table for every meal.
He said the first day he didn't see anything, the second day he didn't
see anything, but by the third day most of the swelling had gone down
and he could see a little out of his left eye, just enough to fix
himself a bite to eat, load the dishwasher, and call a handyman.
THESE REALLY CRACKED ME UP
I no longer open a bathroom door, unless I use a paper towel.
I ask the waitress to put lemon slices in my ice water, then worry about
the bacteria on the lemon peel.
I can no longer sit on the motel bedspread, because I can only imagine what
has happened on it since it was laundered.
I have trouble shaking hands with someone who's been driving, beacause an
e-mail told me that the number one pastime while driving alone, is picking
Eating a little snack sends me on a guilt trip, because I can only imagine
how many gallons of transfats I've consumed over the years.
I can't touch any woman's purse, for fear has placed it on the floor of
a public washroom.
A special thanks to whoever sent me the e-mail about rat poop in the glue
on envoelopes. I now have to use a wet sponge to seal every envelope and
I also have to scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.
I no longer have any savings, because I gave it to a sick girl - Penny
Brown - who is about to die for millionth time.
I no longer have any money, but that will change when I receive the
$15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft are sending to me for participating in
their special e-mail program.
I no longer worry about my soul, because I have 363, 214 angels looking
out for me, and **St. Theresa's Novena g*ranted my every wish.
I can't have a drink in a bar, because I'll wake up in a bathtub full of
ice and my kidneys are gone.
I can't eat at KFC, becuase their chickens are actually horrible mutant
freaks with no eyes, feet or feathers.
I can't use cancer-causing deodorants, even though I smell like a water
buffalo on a hot day.
Thanks to myfriends, I've learned that my prayers only get answered if I
send an e-mail to seven of my friends, and make a wish within five minutes.*
Because of your concern I can no longer drink Coca-Cola because it can
clean toilet bowls and disolve pennies.
I no longer buy gas without taking someone along to watch my car, so that a
serial killer doesn't crawl in my back seat when I'm not looking.
I no longer use Cling Wrap in the micro wave, because it causes seven
different types of cancer.
THANKS FOR LETTING ME KNOW that *I can't boil a cup of water in the
microwave anymore, as it will blow up in my face, disfiguring me for life.*
I no longer go to the movies *because I could be pricked with a needle and
infected with AIDS when I sit down.
I no longer go to shopping malls *because someone will drug me with a
perfume sample and rob me.
And I no longer answer the phone, because someone will ask me to dial a
number, for which I will get a bill for calls to Jamaica, Uganda or
*THANKS TO YOU *I can't use anyone's toilet but mine because a big black
snake could be lurking under the seat and cause me instant death when it
bites my butt.
AND THANKS TO YOUR GREAT ADVICE, I can't pick up a toonie in a parkinbg
lot, because it was placed there by some sex monster who is waiting to grab
me when I bend over.
I can't garden anymore, because *I'm afraid I'll be bitten by a Violin
Spider, and my hand will fall off.
If you don't send this e-mail to at least 144,000 people in the next 70
minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head at 5:00 p.m.
tomorrow afternoon, and the fleas from 120 camels will infest your back,
causing you to grow a hairy hump. I know this will occur because it
actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbor's ex-mother-in-law's
second husband's cousin's best friend's beautician.
By the way: A German scientist from Argentina, after a lengthy study, has
discovered that people with insufficient brain activity read their e-mail
with their hand on the mouse. Don't bother taking it off now, it's too late.
PS: I now keep my toothbrush in the living room; I learned from an e-mail
that water splashes over 6 feet out of the toilet.