Mother jokes (1846 to 1860)

Stumping Dear Abbey

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Stumping Dear Abbey

Dear Abby:

A couple of women moved in across the hall from me. One is a middle-aged gym teacher and the other is a social worker in her mid-twenties. These two women go everywhere together and I've never seen a man go into their apartment or come out. Do you think they could be Lebanese?

Dear Abby:

What can I do about all the sex, nudity, language and violence on my VCR?

Dear Abby:

I have a man I could never trust. He cheats so much I'm not even sure this baby I'm carrying is his.

Dear Abby:

I am a twenty-three-year-old liberated woman who has been on the pill for two years. It's getting expensive and I think my boyfriend should share half the cost, but I don't know him well enough to discuss money with him.

Dear Abby:

I suspected that my husband had been fooling around, and when I confronted him with the evidence he denied everything and said it would never happen again.

Dear Abby:

Our son writes that he is taking Judo. Why would a boy who is raised in a good Christian home turn against his own?

Dear Abby:

I joined the Navy to see the world. I've seen it. Now, how do I get out?

Dear Abby:

My forty-year-old son has been paying a pyschiatrist $50 an hour every week for two-and-a-half years. He must be crazy.

Dear Abby:

I was married to Bill for some three months and I didnt know he drank until one night he came home sober.

Dear Abby:

My mother is mean and short-tempered. I think she is going through her mental pause.

Dear Abby:

You told some woman whose husband had lost all interest in sex to send him to a doctor. Well, my husband lost all interest in sex years ago and he is a doctor.

Apple pie....

Little Johnny and his family lived in the country, and as a result seldom had guests. He was eager to help his mother after his father appeared with two dinner guests from the office.

When the dinner was nearly over, Little Johnny went to the kitchen and proudly carried in the first piece of apple pie, giving it to his father who passed it to a guest.

Little Johnny came in with a second piece of pie and gave it to his father, who again gave it to a guest.

This was too much for Little Johnny, who said, "It's no use, Dad. The pieces are all the same size."

Corny Pick-up Lines

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Corny Pick-up Lines

If you're going to regret this in the morning, we can sleep until the afternoon.

All those curves, and me with no brakes.

Are your legs tired? You've been running through my mind all day long.

Can I borrow 50 cents? I want to call my mum and tell I just met the girl of my dreams.

Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?

A woman asks, "Excuse me, do you have the time?" Man answers, "Yes, do you have the energy?"

Can I have directions to your heart?

Can I have your phone number? I seem to have lost mine.

Do you want to see something really swell?

Your hair is perfectly pH balanced.

Do you have 50 cents? My mother told me to call home when I met the girl of my dreams.

Do you have a mirror in your pocket? (Why?) 'Cause I could see myself in your pants.

I'll cook you dinner if you cook me breakfast.

Do you sleep on your stomach? Can I?

At the office copy machine "Reproducing eh?" "Can I help?"

Ask: "Do you know what winks and makes love like a tiger?" (No?) Wink.

If I gave you a sexy negligee, would there be anything in it for me?

Are you free tonight, or will it cost me?

I think I could fall madly in bed with you.

Here's fifty cents .... call your housemate and tell her you won't be coming home tonight.

Hey baby, let's go back to my place and get something straight between us.

I hope you know CPR, cuz you take my breath away!

How about you sit on my lap and we'll see what pops up?

Do you wash your panties with Windex? Because I can really see myself in them.

You look like a girl that has heard every line in the book, so what's one more going to hurt?

You might not be the best looking girl here, but beauty is only a light switch away.

You must be from Pearl Harbor, cause baby you're the bomb.

You must be Jamaican, because Jamaican me crazy.

A manager brings a dog ...

A manager brings a dog into a nightclub to work.
The dog is a brilliant piano player.  He plays all the
standards.  He's sitting there, pounding out the tunes,
when all of a sudden, a big dog comes in and drags him
out.  The nightclub owner asks, “What happened?”

The manager says,
“That's his mother.  She wants him to be a doctor.”

TOILET-SQUATTING EXERCIS...

TOILET-SQUATTING EXERCISE CLASS

My mother was a fanatic about public toilets.

As a little girl, she'd bring me in the stall, teach me to wad up toilet paper and wipe the seat. Then, she'd carefully lay strips of toilet paper to cover the seat. Finally, she'd instruct, "Never, never sit on a public toilet seat."

And she'd demonstrate "The Stance," which consisted of balancing over the toilet in a sitting position without actually letting any of your flesh make contact with the toilet seat. But by this time, I'd have wet down my leg. And we'd go home.

That was a long time ago. Even now in my more mature years, The Stance is excruciatingly difficult to maintain when one's bladder is especially full. When I have to "go" in a public toilet, I find a line of women that makes me think there's a half-price sale on Mel Gibson's underwear in there. So, I wait and smile politely at all the other ladies, also crossing their legs and smiling politely. And I finally get closer. I check for feet under the stall doors. Every one is occupied.

Finally, a stall door opens and I dash, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. I get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter. I hang my purse on the door hook, yank down my pants and assume "The Stance." Relief. More relief.

Then my thighs begin to shake. I'd love to sit down but I certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so I hold The Stance as my thighs experience a quake that would register an eight on the Richter scale.

To take my mind off it, I reach for the toilet paper. The toilet paper dispenser is empty. My thighs shake more. I remember the tiny tissue that I blew my nose on that's in my purse. It would have to do. I crumble it in the puffiest way possible. It is still smaller than my thumbnail.

Someone pushes open my cubicle door because the latch doesn't work and my purse wacks me in the head. "Occupied!" I scream as I reach out for the door, dropping my tissue in a puddle and falling backward, directly onto the toilet seat.

I get up quickly, but it's too late. My bare bottom has made contact with all the germs and life forms on the bare seat because I never laid down toilet paper, not that there was any, even if I had enough time to. And my mother would be utterly ashamed of me if she knew, because her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, "You don't know what kind of diseases you could get."

And by this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, sending up a stream of water akin to a fountain and then it suddenly sucks everything down with such force that I grab onto the toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged to China. At that point, I give up. I'm soaked by the splashing water. I'm exhausted. I try to wipe with a lolly wrapper I found in my pocket, then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

I can't figure out how to operate the sinks with the automatic sensors, so I wipe my hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past a line of women, still waiting, cross-legged and unable to smile politely at this point. One kind soul at the very end of the line points out that I'm trailing a piece of toilet paper on my shoe as long as the Murray River!

I yank the paper from my shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and say warmly, "Here. You might need this."

At this time, I see my spouse, who has entered, used and exited his toilet and read a copy of War and Peace while waiting for me.

"What took you so long?" he asks, annoyed.

This is when I kick him sharply in the shin and go home.

This is dedicated to all women everywhere who have ever had to deal with a public toilet. And it finally explains to all you men what takes us so long.

License Renewal

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License Renewal

A woman named Emily renewing her driver's license at the Transport office was asked by the clerk to state her occupation. She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself. "What I mean is," explained the clerk, "do you have a job, or are you just a "?". "Of course I have a job," snapped Emily. "I'm a Mum."

"We don't list 'Mum' as an occupation.. 'housewife' covers it," said the clerk emphatically.

I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in the same situation, this time at our local police station. The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like, "Official Interrogator" or "Town Registrar." "What is your occupation?" she probed.

What made me say it, I do not know... The words simply popped out. "I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations." The clerk paused, pen frozen in midair, and looked up as though she had not heard right. I repeated the title slowly, emphasizing the most significant words. Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire!

"Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest, "just what you do in your field?" Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply, "I have a continuing programme of research, (what mother doesn't), in the laboratory and in the field, (normally I would have said indoors and out).

I'm working for my Masters, (the whole bloody family), and already have four credits, (all daughters). Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities, (any mother care to disagree?) and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it). But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money."

There was an increasing note of respect in the girl's voice as she completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.

When I got home, buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants - ages 10, 7, and 3. Upstairs, I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6 month old baby), in the child-development programme, testing out a new vocal pattern. I felt I had triumphed over bureaucracy! And I had gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than "just another Mum."

Motherhood.....What a glorious career! Especially when there's a title on the door.

Does this make grandmothers "Senior Research Associates in the field of Child Development and Human Relations" and great grandmothers "Executive Senior Research Associates"? I think so! I also think it makes Aunts "Associate Research Assistants".

What are they doing?

A woman and her little boy were walking through a park in New York and they pass two squirrels having sex.

The little boy asks his mom, "Mommy, mommy, what are they doing?"

The lady responded, "They're making a sandwich."

Then they pass two dogs having sex and the little boy again asks what they were doing.

His mother again replied they were making a sandwich.

A couple of days later the little boy walks in on his mother and father and said "Mommy, Daddy, you must be making a sandwich because, Mommy has mayonnaise all over her mouth!!!"

An opening joke...

Not too long ago a large seminar was held for ministers in training.

Among the speakers were many well known motivational speakers. One such boldly approached the pulpit and, gathering the entire crowd's attention, said, "The best years of my life were spent in the arms of a woman that wasn't my wife!"

The crowd was shocked! He followed up by saying, "And that woman was my mother!" - The crowd burst into laughter and he gave his speech which, went over well.

About a week later one of the ministers who had attended the seminar decided to use that joke in his sermon. As he shyly approached the pulpit one sunny Sunday, he tried to rehearse the joke in his head. It seemed a bit foggy to him this morning.

Getting to the microphone he said loudly, "The greatest years of my life were spent in the arms of another woman that was not my wife!"

His congregation sat shocked. After standing there for almost 10 seconds trying to recall the second half of the joke, the pastor finally blurted out "...and I can't remember who she was!"

Is that the worst hat ca...

Is that the worst hat can happen?

A father passing by his son's bedroom was astonished to see the bed was nicely made and everything was picked up. Then he saw an envelope propped up prominently on the center of the bed. It was addressed, "Dad"

With the worst premonition, he opened the envelope and read the letter:

Dear Dad,

It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing you. I had to elope with my new girlfriend because I wanted to avoid a scene with mom and you. I've been finding real passion with Joan and she is so nice-even with all her piercing, tattoos, and her tight Motorcycle clothes. But it's not only the passion dad, she's pregnant and Joan said that we will be very happy. Even though you don't care for her as she is so much older than I, she already owns a trailer in the woods and has a stack of >>firewood for the whole winter. She wants to have many more children with me and that's now one of my dreams too. Joan taught me that marijuana doesn't really hurt anyone and we'll be growing it for us and trading it with her friends for all the cocaine and ecstasy we want. In the meantime, we'll pray that science will find a cure for AIDS so Joan can get better; she sure deserves it!

Don't worry Dad, I'm 15 years old now and I know how to take care of myself. Someday I'm sure we'll be back to visit so you can get to know your grandchildren.

Your son,

John

PS: Dad, none of the above is true. I'm over at the neighbor's house. I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than my report card that's in my desk center drawer.

I love you! Call when it is safe for me to come home!

A few months after his parents...

A few months after his parents were divorced, Little Johnny passed by his mom's bedroom and saw her rubbing her body and moaning, "I need a man, I need a man!"

Over the next couple of months, he saw her doing this several times. One day, he came home from school and heard her moaning. When he peeked into her bedroom, he saw a man on top of her.

Little Johnny ran into his room, took off his clothes, threw himself on his bed, started stroking himself, and moaning,

"Ohh, I need a bike! I need a bike!"

Baby Planes

A mo...

Baby Planes

A mother and her son were flying JetStar Airlines from Melbourne to Sydney. The son (who had been looking out the window) turned to his mother and asked, "If big dogs have baby dogs and big cats have baby cats, why don't big planes have baby planes?

The mother (who couldn't think of an answer) told her son to ask the stewardess. So the boy asked the stewardess, "If big dogs have baby dogs and big cats have baby cats, why don't big planes have baby planes?"

The stewardess responded, "Did your mother tell you to ask me?"

The boy said, "Yes she did."

"Well, then, tell your mother that there are no baby planes because JetStar always pulls out on time, now have your mother explain that to you."