Happiness is...

I mowed the lawn today, and after doing so
I sat down and had a cold beer.
The day was really quite beautiful, and the drink facilitated some deep thinking.
My wife walked by and asked me what I was doing,
and I said, "Nothing."
The reason I said "nothing" instead of saying "just thinking" is because she then would have asked, "About what?"
At that point I would have had to explain that men are deep thinkers about various topics, which would lead to other questions.
Finally I pondered an age old question: Is giving birth more painful than getting kicked in the nuts?
Women always maintain that giving birth is way more painful than a guy getting kicked in the nuts, but how could they know?
Well, after another beer, and some more heavy deductive thinking, I have come up with an answer to that question.
Getting kicked in the nuts is more painful than having a baby, and even though I obviously couldn't really know, here is the reason for my conclusion:
A year or so after giving birth, a woman will often say, "It might be nice to have another child."
But you never hear a guy say, "You know, I think I would like another kick in the nuts."
I rest my case.
Time for another beer. Then maybe a nap.


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It got crowded in heaven, so for one day and one day only, it was decided to only accept people who had really bad day on the day they died.
St. Peter was standing at the pearly gates and said to the first man, “Tell me about the day you died.” The man said, “Oh, it was awful.
I was sure my wife was having an affair, so I came home early to catch her with him. I searched all over the apartment but couldn’t find him anywhere.
So I went out onto the balcony, we live on the 25th floor, and found this man hanging over the edge by his fingertips.
I went inside, got a hammer, and started hitting his hands. He fell, but landed in some bushes. So, I got the refrigerator
and pushed it over the balcony and it crushed him. The strain gave me a heart attack, and I died.”

St. Peter couldn’t deny that this was a pretty bad day, and since it was a crime of passion, he let the man in.

He then asked the next man in line about the day he died. “Well, sir, it was awful,” said the second man. “I was doing aerobics on the balcony
of my 26th floor apartment when I twisted my ankle and slipped over the edge. I managed to grab the balcony of the apartment below,
but some maniac came out and started pounding on my fingers with a hammer. Luckily I landed in some bushes. But, then the guy dropped a refrigerator on me!”

St. Peter chuckled, let him into heaven and decided he could really start to enjoy this job.
“Tell me about the day you died?” he said to the third man in line.

“OK, picture this. I’m naked, hiding inside a refrigerator….”


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A cowboy named Bud was overseeing his herd in a remote mountainous
pasture in California when suddenly a brand-new BMW advanced toward
him out of a cloud of dust.
The driver, a young man in a Brioni® suit, Gucci® shoes, RayBan®
sunglasses and YSL® tie, leaned out the window and asked the cowboy,
"If I tell you exactly how many cows and calves you have in your herd,
will you give me a calf?"
Bud looks at the man, who obviously is a yuppie, then looks at his
peacefully grazing herd and calmly answers, "Sure, why not?"
The yuppie parks his car, whips out his Dell® notebook computer,
connects it to his Cingular RAZR V3® cell phone, and surfs to a NASA
page on the Internet, where he calls up a GPS satellite to get an exact fix
on his location which he then feeds to another NASA satellite that scans
the area in an ultra-high-resolution photo.
The young man then opens the digital photo in Adobe Photoshop® and
exports it to an image processing facility in Hamburg, Germany ..
Within seconds, he receives an email on his Palm Pilot® that the image
has been processed and the data stored. He then accesses an MS-SQL®
database through an ODBC connected Excel® spreadsheet with email on
his Blackberry® and, after a few minutes, receives a response.
Finally, he prints out a full-color, 150-page report on his hi-tech,
miniaturized HP LaserJet® printer, turns to the cowboy and says, "You
have exactly 1,586 cows and calves."
"That's right. Well, I guess you can take one of my calves," says Bud.
He watches the young man select one of the animals and looks on with
amusement as the young man stuffs it into the trunk of his car.
Then Bud says to the young man, "Hey, if I can tell you exactly what
your business is, will you give me back my calf?" The young man
thinks about it for a second and then says, "Okay, why not?"
"You're a Congressman for the U.S. Government", says Bud.
"Wow! That's correct," says the yuppie, "but how did you guess that?"
"No guessing required." answered the cowboy. "You showed up here
even though nobody called you; you want to get paid for an answer I
already knew, to a question I never asked. You used millions of
dollars’ worth of equipment trying to show me how much smarter
than me you are; and you don't know a thing about how working people
make a living - or about cows, for that matter. This is a herd of
sheep....................... Now give me back my dog
Wow, Been awhile since anyone had a need for a joke. New Year, New Jokes


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