How to stop biting nails

Two little old ladies were discussing their husbands over tea.

"I wish George would stop biting his nails," said one.

"He makes me terribly nervous."

"My Bob used to do the same thing," the other woman replied. "But I broke him of the habit."

"How?"

"I hid his teeth".

Old age .... can't believe you got there, eh?

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN GUILTY OF LOOKING AT OTHERS YOUR OWN AGE AND THINKING, SURELY I CAN 'T LOOK THAT OLD.

WELL . . YOU 'LL LOVE THIS ONE.

MY NAME IS ALICE , AND I WAS SITTING IN THE WAITING ROOM FOR MY FIRST APPOINTMENT WITH A NEW DENTIST.

I NOTICED HIS DDS DIPLOMA ON THE WALL, WHICH BORE HIS FULL NAME.

SUDDENLY, I REMEMBERED A TALL, HANDSOME, DARK-HAIRED BOY WITH THE SAME NAME HAD BEEN IN MY HIGH SCHOOL CLASS SOME 40-ODD YEARS AGO.

COULD HE BE THE SAME GUY THAT I HAD A SECRET CRUSH ON, WAY BACK THEN?

UPON SEEING HIM, HOWEVER, I QUICKLY DISCARDED ANY SUCH THOUGHT.

THIS BALDING, GRAY-HAIRED MAN WITH THE DEEPLY LINED FACE WAS WAY TOO OLD TO HAVE BEEN MY CLASSMATE.

AFTER HE EXAMINED MY TEETH, I ASKED HIM IF HE HAD ATTENDED MORGAN PARK HIGH SCHOOL ..

'YES. YES, I DID. I 'M A MUSTANG, ' HE GLEAMED WITH PRIDE.

WHEN DID YOU GRADUATE? ' I ASKED.

HE ANSWERED, 'IN 1967.. WHY DO YOU ASK? '

YOU WERE IN MY CLASS! ', I EXCLAIMED.

HE LOOKED AT ME CLOSELY.

THEN, THAT UGLY,

OLD,

BALD,

WRINKLED FACED,

FAT-ASSED,

GRAY-HAIRED,

DECREPIT

SON-OF-A-BITCH

ASKED ME

'WHAT DID YOU TEACH???'

Demands from the Old

Football Team

Two 90 year old men, Mike and Joe, have been friends all of their lives.

When it's clear that Joe is dying, Mike visits him every day. One day Mike says, "Joe, we both loved football all our lives, and we played football on Saturdays together for so many years. Please do me one favour, when you get to Heaven, somehow you must let me know if there's football there."

Joe looks up at Mike from his death bed," Mike, you've been my best friend for many years. If it's at all possible, I'll do this favour for you.

Shortly after that, Joe passes on.

At midnight a couple of nights later, Mike is awakened from a sound sleep by a blinding flash of white light and a voice calling out to him, "Mike--Mike."

"Who is it? asks Mike sitting up suddenly. "Who is it?"

"Mike--it's me, Joe."

"You're not Joe. Joe just died."

"I'm telling you, it's me, Joe," insists the voice."

"Joe! Where are you?"

"In heaven", replies Joe. "I have some really good news and a little bad news."

"Tell me the good news first," says Mike.

"The good news," Joe says," is that there's football in heaven. Better yet, all of our old friends who died before us are here, too. Better than that, we're all young again. Better still, it's always spring time and it never rains or snows. And best of all, we can play football all we want, and we never get tired."

That's fantastic," says Mike. "It's beyond my wildest dreams! So what's the bad news?

"You're in the team for this Saturday!!!"