So, it’s Saturday. I’ve had the better part of a week of teleworking and it’s been…a week. I’ve caught up on a couple of hundred emails, answered some phone calls. Disappointed a LOT of people because I’m not there to actually DO stuff, so all-in-all a fairly successful week. I’m enjoying being at home. I NEED to be at home. Still recovering, still very sore and weak. And still not over the passing of my wife.
This week is going to bring it’s own hell. On Friday, the 15th of July, Mary and I would have celebrated our 27th wedding anniversary. That’s going to be a fun day. I scheduled an appointment with my counselor for Wednesday the 13th. And it will be an in-person appointment unlike my lately phone call appointments. So…I’m trying to plan accordingly. Monday I have grief group and I’ll bring it up then. Izzy has an appointment with her counselor on the 15th.
Anyway, let’s line up some laughs and try to get this week ended with some funnies to get next week started the right way!
“Rage Against The Machine” never specified what type of machine they were furious with, but I figure it was probably a printer.
The next James Bond will be made to satisfy the woke brigade. Bond will start off as a man and will transgender to a woman. The film will be called, Cocktopussy.
Many people ask me why I drink so much whisky. It’s actually because I have a genetic condition whereby my body doesn’t produce it’s own alcohol. Therefore I’m forced to take a supplement.
Our operatic star…this is from Night of the Dragon
Boy, ain’t that the truth.
I have no problem with vigorous background checks on firearms. While we’re at it, do the same for immigration and voter ID.
Please! Take my word for it. Don’t learn this one by experience.
If you are going to hang out with me, you need the following: A sense of humor An understanding and appreciation of sarcasm The ability to shake your head and roll your eyes.
She wears my T-shirts to bed. She wears my jacket when she’s cold. She even wears my boxers. But I wear her panties one time and suddenly I have “serious mental issues” and I’ve “overstepped my boundaries.”
Scotty, Beam me up!
What’s wrong with whiskey for breakfast?
Got a couple of messages I’d like to share:
Before I got married I didn’t know there was a wrong way to put milk back in the fridge.
At my age, rolling out of bed in the morning is the easy part. Getting up off the floor is a whole other story.
Being an adult is a little out of my price range right now.
At a party, a young wife admonished her husband, “That’s the fourth time you’ve gone back for ice cream and cake. Doesn’t it embarrass you?”
“Why should it?” answered her spouse. “I keep telling them it’s for you.”
Today my bank informed me that Facebook friends can not be used as references for a car loan. You guys are useless.
Could never happen in real life, right? … right?
If I was a plastic surgeon… I would 100% put a squeaky toy squeaker in every breast implant.
Sure, go ahead, try it.
Some of my friends exercise every day, meanwhile I’m watching a TV show I don’t like because the remote fell on the floor.
Some people wake up finding messages like “Good Morning, Baby!”
I wake up to “Battery full, Remove charger.”
And that’s it for today. Love and happiness to you all. Until Monday.