“Hello, police department? I’ve lost my cat and… ”
“I’m sorry lady, but this is not a police job, you can try calling…”
“But you don’t understand, this is a very intelligent cat. He is almost human. He can practically talk.”
“Well, in that case ma’am, you’d better hang up. He may be trying to call you right now.”
To those of you who are nit-pickers about the meaning of words: there is a big distinction between Guts and Balls. We’ve all heard about people having Guts or Balls to do something, but do you really know the difference between them?
In an effort to keep you informed, here are the definitions:
GUTS – Arriving home late, after a night out with the boys, being met by your wife with a broom, and having the guts to ask: “Are you still cleaning, or are you flying somewhere?”
BALLS – Coming home late after a night out with the boys, smelling of perfume and beer, with lipstick on your collar, slapping your wife on the bottom and having the balls to say: “You’re next, chubby.”
I hope this clears up any confusion on the definitions. Medically speaking, there is no difference in the outcome. Both will result in sure death.
I’m not the easiest guy in the world to get along with. So when our anniversary rolled around, I wanted my wife to know how much I appreciated her tolerating me for the past 20 years. I ordered flowers and told the florist to enclose a card that read, ‘Thanks for putting up with me so long.’
When my wife got the delivery, she called me at work.
“Just where do you think you going?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” I said.
She read the card aloud as the florist had written it: “Thanks for putting up with me. So long.”