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This poem could send anyone to a rubber room....
Many, many years ago When I was twenty three, I got married to a widow, Pretty as could be. This widow had a grown-up daughter With flowing hair of red. My father fell in love with her, And soon the two were wed. This made my dad my son-in-law And changed my very life. Now my daughter was my mother, For she was my father's wife. To complicate the matters worse, Although it brought me joy. I soon became the father Of a bouncing baby boy. My little baby then became A brother-in-law to dad. And so became my uncle, Though it made me very sad. For if he was my uncle, Then that also made him brother To the widow's grown-up-daughter Who, of course, was my step-mother. Father's wife then had a son, Who kept them on the run. And he became my grandson, For he was my daughter's son, My wife is now my mother's mother And it makes me blue. Because, although she is my wife, She's my grandma too. If my wife is my grandmother, Then I am her grandchild. And every time I think of it, it simply drives me wild. For now I have become The strangest case you ever saw. As the husband of my grandmother, I am my own grandpa! |
stoneface you are just too funny.. you are keeping me sane in my time of need
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For those of you who have all your crops planted, and all your facilities full.... and all your tools, buildings and decorations bought.....
and if you are just sitting there with nothing to do while you wait for farm #11 and more levels, and more goodies.... try: sitting out front in your parked car with sunglasses on and point a hair dryer at passing cars. See if they slow down. Pay your bills and in the memo field of all your checks, write 'for sexual favors.' Finish all your sentences with "In accordance with the prophet (your name)." Call the psychic hotline and don't say anything. Tell your children over dinner, "Due to the economy, we are going to have to let one of you go." |
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At the Little Red Modern School House at Farm Town....
One day at the end of class little Billy"s teacher has the class go home and think of story and then conclude the moral of that story.... The following day the teacher asks for the first volunteer to tell their story and little Suzy raises her hand... "my dad owns 10 farms and every Sunday we load the chicken eggs on the truck and drive into town to sell them at the market... well one Sunday we hit a big bump and all the eggs flew out of the basket and onto the road" ... teacher asks for the moral of the story... Suzy replies, "don't keep all your eggs in one basket" Next is little Lucy.... "well my dad owns 10 farms too and every weekend we take the chicken eggs and put them in the incubator" .... "last weekend only 8 of the 12 eggs hatched"....Teacher asks for the moral of the story.... Lucy replies "don't count your eggs before they're hatched" Last is little Billy.... "My dad owns farms too, but when he fought in the Vietnam war, his plane was shot down over enemy territory" over the rice paddies...... "he jumped out before it crashed with only a case of beer, a machine gun and a machete".... "on the way down he drank the case of beer".... "unfortunately he landed right in the middle of 100 enemy soldiers".... "he shot 70 with his machine gun, but ran out of bullets, so he pulled out his machete and killed 20 more, but the blade on his machete broke, so he killed the last ten with his strong, bare, farmer hands" Teacher looks in shock at Billy and asks if there is possibly any moral to his story.... Billy replies, "don't "mess" with my dad when he's been drinking" :eek: |
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I'm older than Rebecca and yes she did say that......
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Tony is right....if it is worth having then it is worth waiting for...
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I went into the Market Place to work (because I had nothing to do while waiting for a couple of farm #11s) and every female in there was a blond.
I said " ....wow, look at all the blonds in here .... its like Baywatch in overalls." Never got hires so fast in years. !!!! :D |
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