So....
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I mowed the lawn today, and after doing so I sat down and had a cold beer.
The day was really quite beautiful, and the drink facilitated some deep thinking.
My wife walked by and asked me what I was doing, and I said, "Nothing."
The reason I said "nothing" instead of saying "just thinking" is because she then would have asked, "About what?"
At that point I would have had to explain that men are deep thinkers about various topics, which would lead to other questions.
Finally I pondered an age old question: Is giving birth more painful than getting kicked in the nuts?
Women always maintain that giving birth is way more painful than a guy getting kicked in the nuts, but how could they know?
Well, after another beer, and some more heavy deductive thinking, I have come up with an answer to that question.
Getting kicked in the nuts is more painful than having a baby, and even though I obviously couldn't really know, here is the reason for my conclusion:A year or so after giving birth, a woman will often say, "It might be nice to have another child."
But you never hear a guy say, "You know, I think I would like another kick in the nuts."
I rest my case.
Time for another beer. Then maybe a nap.
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Heisenberg, Schrodinger, and Ohm are driving along the road together - Heisenberg is driving.
After a time, they are stopped by a traffic cop. Heisenberg pulls over, and the cop comes up to the driver's window.
“Sir, do you know how fast you were driving?” asks the cop.
“No” replies Heisenberg “but I know precisely where I am”
“You were doing 70.” says the cop
“Great!” says Heisenberg “Now we're lost!”
The cop thinks this is very strange behaviour and so he decides to inspect the vehicle. After a time he comes back to the driver's window and says “Do you know there's a dead cat in the trunk?”
“Well, now we do!!” yells Schrodinger.
The cop thinks this is all too weird, so he proceeds to arrest the three.
Ohm resists.
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So, and Englishman, an Italian and a Frenchman are arguing what the word "panache" means.
The Englishman says, panache is when you walk into your bedroom and you find your wife in bed with another man, and you say, "Excuse me!"
The Italian says, panache is when you walk into your bedroom and you find your wife in bed with another man, and you say, "Excuse me! Carry on!"
The Frenchman says, panache is when you walk into your bedroom and you find your wife in bed with another man, and you say, "Excuse me! Carry on! And he does."
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A nice, calm and respectable lady went into the pharmacy, walked right up to the pharmacist, looked straight into his eyes, and said, "I would like to buy some cyanide."
The pharmacist asked, "Why in the world do you need cyanide?"
The lady replied, "I need it to poison my husband."
The pharmacists eyes got big and he exclaimed, "Lord have mercy! I can't give you cyanide to kill your husband! That's against the law! I'll lose my license! They'll throw both of us in jail! All kinds of bad things will happen. Absolutely not! You CANNOT have any cyanide!"
The lady reached into her purse and pulled out a picture of her husband in bed with the pharmacist's wife.
The pharmacist looked at the picture and replied, "Well now. That's different. You didn't tell me you had a prescription."
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A language instructor was explaining to her class that in French, nouns unlike their English counterparts, are grammatically designated as masculine or feminine. "House," in French, is feminine - "la maison." "Pencil," in French, is masculine - "le crayon."
One puzzled student asked, "What gender is the computer?" The teacher did not know, and the word wasn't in her French dictionary. So for fun she split the class into two groups, appropriately enough by gender, and asked them to decide whether "computer" should be a masculine or feminine noun.
Both groups were required to give four reasons for their recommendation.
The men's group decided that computers should definitely be of the feminine gender ("la computer"), because:
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No one but their creator understands their internal logic.
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The native language they use to communicate with other computers is incomprehensible to everyone else.
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Even the smallest mistakes are stored in long-term memory for possible later retrieval.
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As soon as you make a commitment to one, you find yourself spending half your pay check on accessories for it.
The women's group, however, concluded that computers should be masculine ("le computer"), because:
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In order to get their attention, you have to turn them on.
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They have a lot of data but they are still clueless.
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They are supposed to help you solve problems, but half the time they ARE THE PROBLEM.
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As soon as you commit to one, you realize that if you'd waited a little longer, you could have gotten a better model.
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Few people know that before he was famous, the late Johnny Cash tried a chip full of salsa served backstage in Possumneck, Mississippi that changed his life. It was spicy and tangy and smoky and so good that he just couldn't get it off of his mind. Unfortunately, there was no jar, no label.
Now, there have been rumors that Johnny had kind of an addictive personality. He would sometimes disappear for days on end. People attributed it to drugs or alcohol. The truth is that he would roam the country searching for the special hot sauce of his dreams. He heard rumors and whispers of the deadly condiment and followed them to countless dead ends. He stopped at every Tex Mex restaurant, truck stop, and Mexican grocery in the South without finding what he sought.
One day he heard tell of an old woman, a witch down in the Mayan peninsula in Mexico whom it was said, made the best salsa in the world! He cancelled his next five gigs and headed south. He rode donkeys, Jeeps and horse drawn wagons. He traversed deserts, mountains and jungles before finally reaching the fabled village where the old bruja lived.He found and entered the old woman's hut. As luck would have it, she was one of his first big fans, having caught one of his shows at that Holiday Inn in Possumneck, Mississippi while attending a Salsa Aficionado convention where one of her jars of salsa mysteriously disappeared and somehow made its way to a bowl backstage. She consented to sharing her secret recipe with him only after he agreed to write a song for her.
She shared the special Tomatillos grown in Mayan soil. She gave him the seeds from a rare Mexican pepper and showed him the special pan with a rounded bottom, similar to those used in the Far East that she would use to simmer "la lima" or "lime," the source of the salsa's tanginess. He asked her if he could just use his regular flat-bottomed pan but she insisted that he must use the round-bottomed pan.
From this came the inspiration for the lyrics: "Because you're Mayan, I'll wok the lime!"
