Today on my 4th wedding anniversary I would
like to share these few moments with you all. My wife and I have the
secret to making a marriage last.
Two times a week, we go to a nice restaurant, a little wine,
good food..... She goes Tuesdays, I go Fridays.
__________________________
I take my wife everywhere, but she keeps
finding her way back.
__________________________
I asked my wife, "Where do you want to go for our anniversary?"
She said, "Somewhere I have never been!"
I told her, "How about the kitchen?"
___________________________
We always hold hands. If I let go, she shops.
__________________________
She has an electric blender, electric toaster, and electric bread
maker. Then she said "There are too many gadgets, and no place to
sit down! So I Bought her an electric chair.
__________________________
My wife told me the car wasn't running well, there was water
in the carburetor. I asked where the car was, and she told me it was
in the lake.
__________________________
My wife went on a new diet. Coconuts and
bananas. She hasn't lost weight, but she can now climb a tree! __________________________
She got a mudpack and looked great for two days.
Then the mud fell off.
__________________________
One day she ran after the garbage truck, yelling, "Am I too late
for the garbage?"
No, jump in!" replied the driver.....
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A man placed some flowers on the grave of his departed mother and
started back for his car, parked on the cemetery road. His attention
was diverted to a man kneeling at a grave.
The man seemed to be praying with profound intensity, and kept
repeating, "Why did you die? Why did you die?"
The first man approached him and said, "Sir, I don't want to
interfere with your private grief, but this demonstration of hurt and pain is more than I've ever seen before. For whom do you mourn so deeply? Your Child? A parent? Who, may I ask, lies in that grave?"
The mourner answered, "My wife's first husband! Why did you die? Why
did you die?"
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Yawn (Def) :- The only time some married men ever get to open their
mouth.
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