A holiday joke to make your celebrations celebration-y-er

You know there are times when there is a lull in conversation. That’s when it’s time for a joke. Simply pull this blog up on your phone and read away.

You won’t be disappointed.

A woman is having an affair during the day while her husband is at work. Her 9 year old son comes home unexpectedly, sees them and hides in the bedroom closet to watch. The woman’s husband also comes home so she puts her lover in the closet not realizing that her son is hiding in there.

The little boy says ”It’s dark in here”
The man replies ”Yes, it is”
Boy – “I have a baseball.”
Man – “That’s nice.”
Boy – “Want to buy it?”
Man – “No, thanks.”
Boy – “My dad’s outside.”
Man – “OK, how much?”
Boy – “$250”

In the next few weeks, it happens again that the boy and the lover are in the closet together once again.
Boy – “Dark in here.”
Man – “Yes, it is.”
Boy – “I have a baseball glove.”
The lover remembering the last time, asks the boy,
“How much?”
Boy – “$750”
Man – “Fine.”

A few days later, the father says to the boy, “Grab
your glove, let’s go outside and have a game of catch.”
The boy says, “I can’t, I sold my baseball and my glove.”
The father asks, “How much did you sell them for?”
Boy – “$1,000”
The father says, “That’s terrible to overcharge your friends like
that… that is way more than those two things cost. I’m going to take you to church and make you confess.”
They go to the church and the father makes the little boy sit in the confession booth and he closes the door.
The boy says, “Dark in here.”
The priest says, “Don’t start that shit again!”

Seen on Facebook.

It’s Caturday!

photo 4

For Christmas, Tina’s dream of a new sofa and chair came true.

It’s emotional for our cat Zoe, since this is the only sofa she’s ever known.

You can see in her face above that melancholy and infinite sadness doesn’t affect humans only.

She’s also breaking out. That’s a kitty pimple on her chin.

Below is the new sofa. And while it’s not the old flowery one; it’s something. And it’ll have to do, she explained.

It’ll have to do.

photo 2

 

 

Nosebleeds are never good. Nosebleeds and running on a cold day? What’s worse.

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Yesterday, I went for a jog.

The sun was starting to go down, and it was chilly. Twenties, maybe.

I haven’t been feeling well, but it’s been forever since I jogged. My sleep suffers more when I haven’t exercised.

So off I went. With Talulah.

I don’t have a lot of winter gear, so I bundled up in miscellaneous layers and hoped for the best. While I ran, Tina decided to go Christmas shopping at Target.

As I ran, my phone dinged several times with Target panic questions about whether Tina should buy slippers for her cousin’s husband.

I don’t know about you. But unless it’s an emergency, when I’m running, don’t text me.

After receiving a text with a photo of the slippers, I sent a gentle text reminder back to Tina that said, “Stop fucking texting me. I’m running.”

About fifteen minutes later, I was on mile three. I stopped to take this image of the city from Diversey Harbor.

I wiped my nose with my sleeve, and there was blood all over.

“Damn, I have a nosebleed.”

As I stood there, wiping blood flowing out my right nostril, the sweat from the first three miles started seeping into my clothing, which wasn’t thick enough given the day.

I started to panic, because I was too far from home. Traffic at that hour and this time of year is voluminously awful. Since I was freezing, I couldn’t stop and wait someplace. Since I was bleeding, I didn’t have the guts to go into a store, which would have been at least a mile run from my location.

So I started home, texting Tina. My mind was so warped that calling her seemed too difficult.

My texts were, “Please help!!!!! Blood everywhere.”

And, “I’m scared.”

I almost wrote, “I’m going to die out here.”

I hoped and dreamed that she would fully comprehend my situation, go rent a helicopter and swoop in and pick me up.

Or a bat jet.

By the time I got home, my sleeves were covered in blood stains. Talulah didn’t understand what was up. She just wanted water and a warm blanket.

After a brief heated exchange with Tina over the phone for not renting a helicopter to save me, all was well again in the Wittifini household.

The moral of the story is: picking your nose gives you nosebleeds.

No, wait, that’s not it.

It’s make sure you have a helicopter ready during the Christmas season to swoop in and pickup loved ones when they’re down and out and need help.

SRSLY.