The Dating Program

Out of curiosity, I asked my good friend, Bob, to run my vital information through his computer dating program to see what kind of gal is supposedly right for me.

Bob started with some basic questions. I told him that I was sixty-six years old, five feet, eight inches tall, and weighed about 175 pounds. My friend just shook his head.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“You’re not off to a very good start,” he replied. “You’re old, short, and a few pounds overweight.”

“I don’t know about that,” I responded, holding in my gut and offering my best profile. “Maybe I should get a second opinion.”

“Okay, you’re also ugly. I’ll put that into the program. You know, there is a factor that can largely override those negative traits.”

“What’s that?”

“How much money do you have?”

“Counting my long-term investments, I’d say I’m worth twenty or thirty.”

“Twenty or thirty thousand?”

“No, just twenty or thirty bucks.”

“If you had at least a million bucks, your negatives would be neutralized.”

“What does that mean?”

“It simply means that if you have enough money, some ladies would overlook the fact that you are old, short, overweight, and ugly. Of course, you wouldn’t want to be fixed up with any gals like that.”

“Why not?”

“We put men and women of that caliber into the ‘gold-digger’ group. Those relationships have a high failure rate. When the money is gone, so are they.”

Bob continued: “Can you sing?”

“My voice has been compared to Lucille Ball’s.”

“That would be a big ‘no.’”

“Do you play golf?”

“I’ve played a couple times. The last time out I had a 72.”

“Now we’re getting someplace. I can put down that you are a gifted golfer.”

“That 72 was on hole one; after that it was too dark, so I went home.”

“Scratch that. Do you have much traveling experience?”

“The last time I played basketball I was called for traveling three times.”

“No, knucklehead! I mean traveling to exotic places like Paris or London.”

“I get seasick, and I’m scared to fly. Have they built a bridge to Europe yet?”

“Never mind. Have you won any awards?”

“”During my senior year in high school I was picked as the ‘most forgettable person.’”

“That’s just great! What are your favorite foods?”

“Liver and onions and cauliflower.”

“What is your favorite wine?”

“Whatever is cheapest. Of course, I like it to be aged at least two or three days.”

“What is your favorite TV show?”

“The one with the purple dinosaur.”

At this point Bob’s computer began to smoke and make strange hissing sounds, so he turned it off while we had lunch. About forty-five minutes later he continued plugging in information.

“What is your best trait?”

“I only snore two or three hours a night. The rest of the night I only talk in my sleep.”

“Do you belong to any clubs?”

“No. I wouldn’t want to belong to any organization that would accept someone like me.”

“Do you have a sense of humor?”

“With a face like this, I better have one.”

“Would you describe yourself as physically strong?”

“Yes. I’m definitely stronger compared to when I was twenty.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Well, when I was twenty I couldn’t hold twenty-five dollars worth of groceries in one arm; now I can. At this rate I’ll have the strength of Superman by the time I’m eighty.”

“Okay. Let’s see what comes up.”

Usually a client gets twenty to thirty matches. In my case, only one match appeared.

“I think this would be the perfect gal for you,” Bob explained. “As a matter of fact, I think she’s made just for you.”

The dating machine had picked the wife of Frankenstein’s monster as my ideal mate. Maybe I‘d have a chance. She hated the monster, and unlike him, I’m not green, and I don’t have bolts sticking out of my neck. And furthermore, most of my parts are original.

Mother-in-Law Jokes and Other Goofy Stuff

 

• My three-year-old grandson has been taught to call me Gramps. Evidently, the little guy is a good judge of character. He calls me “Grump.”

• Three years ago my friend married a gal he called “Miss Right.” Only later did he learn that her first name was “Always.”

• The most important words for a husband to learn: “Yes, dear” and “I'm Sorry.”

• A recent study indicates that marriage is the chief cause for divorce.

• My wife thinks I should be royalty. She often wants to crown me.

• She has given me a royal title that refers to my love of hamburgers: “Sirloin of Beef.”

• A friend of mine said I was two-faced. I ask you, if I had another face, would I be wearing this one?

• My wife told me I don't talk to her anymore. It's just that I don't want to interrupt her.

• My mother-in-law has a photograph of me hanging on her living room wall. It's attached to a dart board.

• Insanity is inherited. We get it from our children.

• The army prefers married men. They are already trained to take orders.

• Little green men hovered over Washington, D. C. in their flying saucer. They reported to their home planet that no intelligent life forms were found there.

• I tried to make peace with my mother-in-law. She was willing to bury the hatchet-right through my skull!

• My wife says we men are simply overgrown boys. I've had it. One more crack like that and I will kick her out of my fort.

• I've found the secret to happiness: Quit watching the nightly news. Instead, watch old Laurel and Hardy flicks.

• When my wife came home from shopping, she told me her car's carburetor had water in it. “How do you know?” I asked. “Because the car's in the river below our house,” she replied.

• There is at least one good thing about having a face like mine: I never have to buy a Halloween mask.

• Knowing that I'm interested in outer space, my mother-in-law raised money to pay for me to go to the moon. Only later did I learn that the ticket was one-way.

• Once I had a try-out to play center field for the Yankees. Only three minor factors kept me from getting the job. I couldn't hit, throw, or run. On the other hand, I looked great in pinstripes.

• In a fair world, Elvis would still be living, and all his imitators would be dead.

• Women have argued that if given a chance, they could do as well in Congress as the men do. Unfortunately, this has proven to be true.

* When I tried out for the movies, the director told me I had more of a face for radio.

The Walking King

 

Until the last four months of her life, my mother walked everywhere. At the age of 77, she was still conquering both hills and valleys as she “hoofed it” to town and back. In the early ’50s my impatient father gave her a brief driving lesson which consisted of one trip around the horse track at the fairgrounds. After putting up with about three minutes' worth of Dad’s nagging and criticism, Mom declared that she would never again get behind the wheel, so she continued to walk.

Perhaps because of Mom’s influence,  I walk at least a half hour every day. About twenty years ago my cousin Rick and I trained for several weeks so that we could make a 55-mile journey on foot to the state’s biggest city. The first half of that trip covered hilly terrain, but we were in great shape. However, we awakened the next morning to discover painful blisters on our feet. Needless to say, the second half of the trip took quite a bit longer than the first half, but we were determined to finish even if we had to crawl.

But my family and I are mere amateurs in the field of walking when compared to one Edward Payson Weston. Born in 1839, he perhaps more than any other person ignited a long-distance walking craze.

IN 1860, Weston lost a bet when Abraham Lincoln was elected president. As a result, he had to walk from Boston to Washington, D. C. to attend the presidential inauguration. He covered the almost five hundred-mile trip in under ten and a half days, arriving late for the inauguration but in time to attend the inaugural ball.

Turning professional, he won a $10,000 prize in 1867 for a walk of over 1,200 miles from Portland, Maine to Chicago, Illinois. This took 26 days. He and rival walkers were considered heroes, much as football and basketball players are today.

Usually he would eat while he walked, and he would take brief naps along the route. Sometimes friendly folks would invite him in for a meal and give him a roof over his head while he slept.

In 1869 he covered more than 1,000 miles through snowy New England in 30 days. He spent several years in Europe. IN 1876 he defeated the English race walking champion in a 24-hour, 115-mile competition. The Englishman quit after 65.6 miles, which he covered in 14 hours. Weston, however, continued for the full 24 hours, covering almost 110 miles. He was victorious once again in 1879 when he won a 550-mile race against “Blower” Brown, the British champion.

In 1906, he traveled over 100 miles, from Philadelphia to New York, in less than 24 hours. In 1907, although nearing the age of 70, he once again completed the Portland-to-Chicago trip, beating his old time by more than 24 hours. His last major walk, from New York City to Minneapolis, was covered in 51 days.

Even in old age, Weston continued to urge people to walk for the health benefits that it accrued. He believed that automobiles were making people fat and lazy.

Ironically, in 1927 Weston was hit by a New York City taxicab, and as a result was confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. His long life ended in 1929.

Weston is correct; most Americans do need more exercise, and walking is a cheap and fun way to get it. Thank goodness, however, one doesn’t need to walk from Portland to Chicago to reap the health benefits. 

My Wife and I See Things Differently

 

My Wife and I See Things Differently

A few days ago, my wife and I invited some friends to come to our house for a wiener roast. “We have to clean the house,” my better half proclaimed.

“Why?” I asked. “The wiener roast is outdoors.”

“Yeah, but they might have to use the bathroom,” she replied. “I would be embarrassed if they came into our house when it is messy. What would they think?”

Being a typical guy, I racked my brain for an easier alternative: “Why don't we rent one of those portable toilets you see at the parks? That way, they could use the bathroom, and we wouldn't have to do all that cleaning. We could set it among that group of trees in the backyard so that the neighbors couldn't see it.”

It may come as no surprise to you husbands out there that the missus would not accept my wonderful solution. Perhaps she was jealous because it was my steel-trap mind that came up with this brilliant idea instead of hers.

It seems as though wives like things organized and pretty. On the other hand, we husbands want to minimize drudgery so that we can focus upon the more important things in life, like football, naps, and beer.

At the grocery store, my wife will stand for several minutes over two brands of meat, trying to decide which one might have a better taste or which is one half of a cent cheaper per pound. I, on the other hand, will grab the first brand I come to, for my time is far more important than saving a few cents. As for taste, we husbands know about the great equalizer-ketchup. If you want something to taste better, simply smother it in ketchup.

For some unknown reason, she does not often permit me to do the cooking. I must admit that our food relationship is almost perfect. She makes some of the best dishes I've ever had the pleasure of devouring, but in doing so, she wastes way too much precious time in the kitchen.

I, on the other hand, can whip up a fantastic meal in three to five minutes, depending upon how fancy I want it to be. My specialty is the classic peanut butter sandwich along with a bag of potato chips and a cold beer. Now that's eating!

A few years ago, while she was on a trip with our son, I saved a lot of time by buying a bunch of paper plates. I not only saved time, but I also helped the environment by cutting down on my use of electricity. Furthermore, since I didn't use the dishwashing machine one time during her absence, I limited the wear and tear it faces from my wife daily.

My better half insists on the bed being made every morning, and she takes this ritual extremely seriously, so seriously that she doesn't even laugh when I tell her she'll need some wood, a saw, and some nails if she's going to make the bed. She mumbles something about it being too early in the morning to deal with Dad jokes. I'm offended; that joke is more than a Dad joke-it's a classic.

To no avail, I've argued that it's a waste of time to make the bed. Who sees it besides our cats and us? I'm not complaining about a messy bed, and neither are the felines.

As I have said, husbands realize that each of us has only so many hours on this planet, so we are always looking for ways to get the work completed and get the fun started. Wives demand we men put the toilet seat down after we are finished, but if we did that, for say, 50 years of marriage, just imagine how many hours, how many days of our lives would be wasted. Besides, the women could help us out by putting the lid back up after they are finished! For some strange reason they refuse to cooperate, so why should we?

So as you can see, my wife and I have differing perspectives on many things. Despite this, we have a loving and strong marriage. We respect and love each other, and we always have each other's back, so to speak. Besides, in the end, she almost always lets me have her way.