I can't believe this is the third birthday without you. I hate these days :( I love you and miss you :(
5 comments:
Anonymous
said...
Okay - here is my joke.... Dad Who Loves Mustard...
I Love Mustard. (This is a true story.)
As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection: a thick slab of ham on a fresh bun with crisp lettuce and plenty of expensive, light brown, gourmet mustard. The corners of my jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to the table in our backyard, picked it up with both hands but was stopped by my wife suddenly at my side. "Here, hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I get my sandwich," she said.
I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and was reaching again for the ham sandwich when I noticed a streak of mustard on my fingers.
I love mustard. I had no napkin. I licked it off. It was not mustard.
No man ever put a baby down faster. It was the first and only time I have sprinted with my tongue protruding. With a washcloth in each hand, I did the sort of routine shoeshine boys do; only I did it on my tongue.
Later, after she stopped crying from laughing so hard, my wife said, "Now you know why they call that fancy mustard . . "Poupon."
Hello! Saw you were missing someone. My cousin died on a motorcycle last year. This website is really inspiring: http://www.ruthann1.com Its amazing how much they still change your life even after they're gone.
5 comments:
Okay - here is my joke....
Dad Who Loves Mustard...
I Love Mustard. (This is a true story.)
As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection: a thick slab of ham on a fresh bun with crisp lettuce and plenty of expensive, light brown, gourmet mustard. The corners of
my jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to the table in our backyard, picked it up with both hands but was stopped by my wife
suddenly at my side. "Here, hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I get my sandwich," she said.
I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and was reaching again for the ham sandwich when I noticed a streak of mustard on my fingers.
I love mustard.
I had no napkin.
I licked it off.
It was not mustard.
No man ever put a baby down faster. It was the first and only
time I have sprinted with my tongue protruding. With a washcloth in each hand, I
did the sort of routine shoeshine boys do; only I did it on my tongue.
Later, after she stopped crying from laughing so hard, my wife said, "Now you know why they call that fancy mustard . . "Poupon."
I love it, Linda. BTW I'm still laughing about you finding your babysitter's fake ID in the lint trap. I hope you didn't return it!
NEVER! It actually was funny - wasn't even a reasonable fake. But she was smart enough not to ask for it back!
Hello!
Saw you were missing someone. My cousin died on a motorcycle last year. This website is really inspiring: http://www.ruthann1.com
Its amazing how much they still change your life even after they're gone.
Thnaks you guys :)
Post a Comment