From Ruminate.com:
My wife only likes to have sex in places if there is a risk of getting caught. Well, I *have* caught her — numerous times, in fact.
There’s this girl where I live — every day I tell her how I’d love to brush her long, beautiful hair, or go skipping through a field of lilies hand in hand with her, or share a bottle of wine on a hilltop overlooking a valley in Tuscany. And every day her answer is the same: “I’m not allowed to fraternize with the prisoners.”
Scientists say a dog’s mouth is cleaner than a human’s mouth. That may be true, but my wife almost never kisses me right after licking her own butt.
When I die, I’d like to be scattered over my hometown. But not, like, cremated or anything.
Sometimes I think I’ve totally wasted my life. That’s when I call my Mom, and she always reassures me: “You’re not a failure, boy. That’s just the crystal meth talking!” Mothers are great that way.