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Duck decoys, fishing rods, boots… Outdoor gear of all kinds was piled high in the garage. One day I found my wife staring at the mess.
“I hope I die first, so I don’t have to get rid of all this,” she sighed. “Look on the bright side,” I suggested. “If I go first, you can put an ad in the paper. When all the men come by to check out the stuff, you can pick out a replacement for me.” Still staring at the pile, she said, “Nah. He wouldn’t be my type.”
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Bob and Betty have been married for fifty years, and now they’re both in their seventies. All his life, Bob wanted a pair of crocodile leather shoes, and he decided it was finally time to treat himself.
When he came home wearing his new shoes, he asked his wife: “Do you notice anything different about me?” She shrugged. “What could possibly be different? You wear the same shirt and pants every day. I don’t see anything.” Bob didn’t give up. Without another word, he went to the bedroom, stripped down, and came back out wearing nothing but his new shoes. “Now, Betty,” he asked, “do you notice anything different?” She looked him over and said: “What difference does it make, Bob? It hangs down the same as every day.” Offended and frustrated, Bob shouted: “And do you know WHY it hangs down? Because it’s looking at my new shoes!” Betty shrugged again and said: “You should have bought a hat instead!”
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“Doctor,” the embarrassed man said, “I have a sexual problem. I can’t get it up for my wife anymore.”
“Mr. Thomas, bring her back with you tomorrow and let me see what I can do.” The next day, the worried fellow returned with his wife. “Take off your clothes, Mrs. Thomas,” the medic said. “Now turn all the way around. Lie down please. Uh-huh, I see. Okay, you may put your clothes back on.” The doctor took the husband aside. “You’re in perfect health,” he said. “Your wife didn’t give me an erection either.”
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On the first night of their honeymoon, the husband isn’t sure how to tell his bride about his stinky feet and smelly socks, while the wife is wondering how to break the news to him about her awful breath. So far, she’s been able to cover up.
After some soul-searching, the husband gathers his nerve and says, “I have a confession.” She draws closer, peers into his eyes, and says, “Darling, so do I.” Recoiling, he says, “Don’t tell me — you’ve eaten my socks.”
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