Delivery anyone?

A client calls me. I inform him that the work is done and he should hear from me by this Friday. The dude gets excited, as he rightly should be, if I may say so. I can smugly say we managed what had appeared impossible at first.

So, he then says that he must get me a gift and asks, "You delivered, right?"

And I am thinking delivered here means delivered the contract though I am slightly puzzled. Then he clarifies, "A boy or a gal?"



Wah!

I am still laughing. In fact, I think I cracked a rib.

The only way I'm getting a brat will be a real delivery - via stork. Yep. Now, don't get me wrong. Brats are cute provided they belong to a relative or if not, they have a home to go back to and it aint mine. I think about it and the cruncher is that here's some individual who dares to try and squeeze through a path where the first time a tampon tried making headway, the exercise was aborted with the utter convintion that the path was blocked from lack of use...tsk!

In summary - wah! Let me go back to laughing.

Note to self: Call back client tomorrow and apologise for laughing off and hanging up without a further word!






And today, here's another one my funny bone:

The big game hunter walked in the bar and bragged to everyone about his hunting skills. The man was undoubtedly a good shot and no one would dispute that. Then he said that they could blindfold him and he would recognize any animal's skin from its feel and, if he could locate the bullet hole, he would even tell them what caliber the bullet was that killed the animal. The hunter said that he was willing to prove it if they would put up the drinks. So the bet was on.

They blindfolded him carefully and took him to his first animal skin. After feeling it for a few moments, he announced "Bear." Then he felt the bullet hole and declared, "Shot with a .308 rifle." He was right. They brought him another skin from someone's car trunk. He took a bit longer this time and then said, "Elk. Shot with a 7mm Mag rifle. He was right again. Through the night, he proved his skills again and again, every time against a round of drinks.

Finally he staggered home, drunk out of his mind and went to sleep. The next morning he got up and saw in the mirror that he had one huge black eye. He said to his wife, "I know I was drunk last night, but not drunk enough to get in a fight and not remember it. Where did I get this black eye?"

His wife angrily replied, "I gave it to you. You got into bed, put your hand down my panties, fiddled around a bit and then loudly yelled, "Skunk. killed with an axe."