Three mothers are sitting around a table playing cards and bragging about their sons.
“My Fred …” says Margaret, “… everyone should be lucky to have a son like mine. Once a week he brings me flowers, takes me out to eat and if I want something it’s on my doorstep the next morning.”
“That’s nice to hear about Fred,” says Gertrude. “But my Sammy takes care of me in a way that just can’t compare. Every morning he wakes up and cooks me bacon and eggs. Every lunch he comes over and cooks me a gourmet meal and each night he invites me over for a lovely dinner. He truly treats me like a queen.”
“Well!” says Barbara, “I don’t want to make you all feel bad or anything, but you should see my Harry. Twice a week he pays someone $200 an hour just so he can lie on their couch and talk to them. And who do you think he speaks about all the time at those prices?” Barbara asks with a wide smile.
“He speaks all about me!”
My mother had just finished taking a CPR class at a local college and she and I were in the mall. We suddenly notice a big crowd gathered around a still body. Mom took off running at a speed I didn’t know she could muster, yelling, “Everyone back! I know CPR!” Just as she threw herself next to the body and was about to begin, a pair of strong hands pulled her to her feet. “Ma’am,” said a police officer beside her, “we are trying to arrest this man.”
The boss of a small company was complaining during a staff meeting that people didn’t respect him enough. So to try and change this behaviour in the office, he came in the next day, and placed a sign on his door.
It said: “I am the boss, so respect me.”
One of the employees stuck a post-it-note on the sign.
It said: “Your wife wants her sign back!”