Church was hard on me. All that sitting still and not talking were hard on a kid back when ADD was just called BAD. Believe me, I know. My prissy older sister, Phyllis, loved anything to do with church, making me look particularly bad. The only glimmer of hope was that she was slow and Mother threatened to leave her every Sunday. When I tried Continue reading
Joe was in the hospital with his jaws wired. He was dying for a cup of coffee. He was so miserable the nurse finally offered to fixed him a coffee enema.
“How do you take your coffee?”
“Black with a little sugar.”
When she started the enema, he squirmed. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is It too hot?”
“No! Too damned sweet!”