A man wakes up in the hospital, bandaged from head to foot.
The doctor comes in and says, "Ah, I see you've regained consciousness.
Now, you probably won't remember, but you were in a pile-up on the
freeway. You're going to be okay, you'll walk again and everything, but...
"Something happened. I'm trying to break this gently, but the fact is,
your willy was chopped off in the wreck and we were unable to find it."
The man groans, but the doctor goes on, "You've got $9000 in insurance
compensation coming and we have the technology now to build you a new
willy that will work as well as your old one did - better in fact! But the thing
is, it doesn't come cheap. It's $1000 an inch."
The man perks up at this.
"So," the doctor says, "It's for you to decide how many inches you want.
But it's something you'd better discuss with your wife. I mean, if you
had a five inch one before, and you decide to go for a nine incher, she might
be a bit put out. But if you had a nine inch one before, and you decide only
to invest in a five incher this time, she might be disappointed. So it's
important that she plays a role in helping you make the decision."
The man agrees to talk with his wife.
The doctor comes back the next day. "So," says the doctor, "have you
spoken with your wife?"
"I have," says the man.
"And what is the decision?" asks the doctor.
"We're getting granite countertops."
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
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4 comments:
What a friggin' wimp. I loathe a man who can't weigh in in his own house.
You go get him, Snarky. He should get the 9 at hit the bar scene, huh?
They should sell the house and move somewhere warm.
Bunni ... ah OK ?
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