We miss Rodney Dangerfield...........
My wife only has sex with me for a purpose. Last night she used me to time an egg.
It's tough to stay married. My wife kisses the dog on the lips, yet she won't drink from my glass!
Last night my wife met me at the front door. She was wearing a sexy negligee. The only trouble was, she was coming home.
A girl phoned me and said, 'Come on over. There's nobody home.' I went over. Nobody was home!
A hooker once told me she had a headache.
I went to a massage parlor. It was self-service.
If it weren't for pickpockets, I'd have no sex life at all.
I was making love to this girl and she started crying I said, 'Are you going to hate yourself in the morning?' She said, 'No, I hate myself now.'
I knew a girl so ugly that she was known as a two-bagger. That's when you put a bag over your head in case the bag over her head comes off.
I knew a girl so ugly... They use her in prisons to cure sex offenders.
My wife is such a bad cook, if we leave dental floss in the kitchen the roaches hang themselves.
I'm so ugly I stuck my head out the window and got arrested for mooning.
The other day I came home and a guy was jogging, naked. I asked him, 'Why?' He said, 'Because you came home early.'
My wife's such a bad cook, the dog begs for Alka-Seltzer.
I know I'm not sexy. When I put my underwear on I can hear the Fruit-of-the-Loom guys giggling.
My wife is such a bad cook, in my house we pray after the meal.
My wife likes to talk on the phone during sex. She called me from Chicago last night.
My family was so poor that if I hadn't been born a boy, I wouldn't have had anything to play with.
Aliens Are Coming To Earth Tomorrow.
THEIR MISSION IS TO ABDUCT ALL GOOD LOOKING, SEXY "OLD" PEOPLE.
I'M JUST POSTING YOU THIS TO SAY GOODBYE.....I have to pack.
The awesome power of a wife's love
A very old man lay dying in his bed. In death's doorway, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookie wafting up the stairs.
He gathered his remaining strength and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort forced himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands.
With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven.
There, spread out on newspapers on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite chocolate chip cookies.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself toward the table. The aged and withered hand, shaking, made its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when he was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife.
"Stay out of those," she said.
"They're for the funeral. "