Thursday

A little girl came running into the house with tears streaming down her face.

"Quick, Mommy!" she screamed. "I need a big glass of cider. Quick!"

"Why do you want a glass of cider, dear?" asked the mother.

"Because," replied the girl, "I cut my hand on a thorn and I want the pain to go away."

Confused, but weary of the child's noise, the mother poured a glass of cider and the girl dunked her hand in it.

"It still hurts," whined the girl. "The cider doesn't work."

"What are you talking about? Just tell me!" the mom said, raising her voice.

"Well," replied the girl, "I overheard my big sister saying that whenever she gets a prick in her hand, she can't wait to get it in cider."

Vell, Ole and Lena went to the same Lutheran Church. Lena went every Sunday and taught Sunday School. Ole went on Christmas and Easter and once in a while, he went on one of the other Sundays. On one of those Sundays, he was in the pew right behind Lena and he noticed vhat a fine looking woman she was.

Vhile dey were taking up the collection, Ole leaned forward and said, "Hey, Lena, how about you and me go to dinner in New Ulm next Friday?"

"Yah, Ole, dot vould be nice," said Lena.

Well, Ole couldn't believe his luck. All week long he polished up his old Ford, and on Friday he picked Lena up and took her to the finest restaurant in New Ulm.

When they sat down, Ole looked over at Lena and said, "Hey, Lena, vould you like a cocktail before dinner?"

"Oh, no, Ole," said Lena. "Vat vould I tell my Sunday School class?"

Vell, Ole was set back a bit, so he didn't say much until after dinner. Then he reached in his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Hey, Lena," said Ole, "vould you like a smoke?"

"Oh, no, Ole," said Lena. "Vat vould I tell my Sunday School class?"

Vell, Ole vas feeling pretty low after that, so he yust got in his Ford and vas driving Lena home ven dey passed the Hot Springs Motel. He'd struck out twice already, so he figured he had nothing to lose.

"Hey, Lena," said Ole, "how vould you like to stop at that motel with me?"

"Yah, Ole, dot vould be nice," said Lena.

Vell, Ole couldn't believe his luck. He did a U-turn right then and there across the median and everything, and drove back to the motel and checked in vith Lena.

The next morning Ole got up first. He looked at Lena lying there in the bed, her hair all spread out on her pillow. "Vat have I done? Vat have I done?" thought Ole.

He shook Lena and she woke up. "Lena, I've got to ask you von ting," said Ole. "Vat are you going to tell your Sunday School class?"

"Lena said, "The same ting I alvays tell dem. You don't have to smoke and drink to have a good time!"

"Thanks to the taxation we are subjected to, the question "Paper or plastic?" now refers to many American's sleeping arrangements!"

Pulling into the crowded parking lot at the shopping center rolled down the car windows to make sure my puppy had fresh air. She was stretched full out on the back seat and I wanted to impress upon her that she must remain there.

I walked to the curb backward, pointing my finger at the car and saying emphatically,

"Now you stay. Do you hear me? "Stay! Stay!"

The driver of a nearby car, a pretty young lady, gave me a strange look and said,

"Why don't you just put it in park?"

Stopping to pick up my daughter at kindergarten, I found out that the topic of "Show and Tell" that day had been parents' occupations.

The teacher pulled me aside. Whispering, she advised, "You might want to explain a little bit more to your daughter what you do for a living."

I work as a training consultant and often conduct my seminars in motel conference rooms.

When I asked why, the teacher explained, "Your daughter told the class she wasn't sure what you did, but said you got dressed real pretty and went to work at motels."

You might be a redneck if…

You think the Mountain Men in Deliverance were just "misunderstood".

CHRISTMAS CAROLS (Thanks Kyle...)

Schizophrenia --- Do You Hear What I Hear?

Multiple Personality Disorder --- We Three Kings Disoriented Are

Dementia --- I Think I'll Be Home For Christmas

Narcissistic --- Hark The Herald Angels Sing About Me

Manic --- Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores and Office and Town and Cars and Busses and Trucks and Trees and Fire Hydrants and. . .

Paranoid --- Santa Claus Is Coming To Get Me

Borderline Personality Disorder --- Thoughts Of Roasting On An Open Fire

Personality Disorder --- You Better Watch Out, I'm Gonna Cry, I'm Gonna Pout, Maybe I'll Tell You Why

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder --- Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells

Passive-Aggressive Disorder --- Santa Baby, You Better Give Me A Mink Coat Or I'll B***h All Year

The leggy, long haired blonde columnist lawyer named Ann was wearing a mini-skirt and a low-cut blouse. Around her neck she wore a little golden airplane on a long chain.

All night long a dweebish looking guy named Ray, kept eyeing her. They made eye contact and he came over to her.

Slightly embarrassed as Ray gazed all over her, she held up her airplane charm and said, "Oh, you like my airplane?"

"Actually, ma'am," he smiled mischievously, "I'm kind of fond of the landing field."