A little girl and her mother were out and about. The girl, out of the blue, asked her mother, "Mommy, How old are you?" The mother responded, "Honey, women don't talk about their age. You'll learn this as you get older."
The girl then asked, "Mommy, how much do you weigh?" Her mother responded again, "That's another thing women don't talk about. You'll learn this, too, as you grow up."
The girl, still wanting to know about her mother, fires off another question, "Mommy, why did you and Daddy get a divorce?" The mother, a little annoyed by the line of questioning, responded, "Honey, that is a subject that hurts me very much, and I don't want to talk about it now."
The little girl, frustrated, sulks until she is dropped off at a friend's house to play. She consults with her girlfriend about the conversation she had with her mother. The girlfriend says, "All you have to do is sneak and look at your mother's driver's license. It's just a like a report card from school. It tells you everything. Later, the little girl and her mother are out and about again. The little girl starts off with, "Mommy, Mommy, I know how old you are. I know how old you are. You're 32 years old."
The mother is very shocked. She asks, "Sweetheart, how do you know that?"
The little girl shrugs and says, I just know. And I know how much you weigh. You weigh 130 pounds."
"Where did you learn that?"
The little girl says, "I just know. And I know why you and daddy got a divorce. You got an 'F' in sеx."
Miss DeAngelo was a not-too-bright young woman who had moved to Hollywood with dreams of becoming a star.
She didn’t find fame or glory, but she did encounter plenty of men willing to enjoy her plentiful charms, and soon she found herself called to testify in a divorce case.
When it was her turn on the stand, the lawyer came forward.
"Miss DeAngelo, the wife of the defendant has identified you as the ‘other woman’ in her husband’s life. Now, do you admit that you went to the Pricerite Motel with this Mr. Evans?"
"Well, yes," acknowledged Miss DeAngelo with a sniff, "but I couldn’t help it."
"Couldn’t help it?" asked the lawyer derisively. "How’s that?"
"Mr. Evans deceived me."
"Exactly what do you mean?"
"See, when we signed in," she explained, "he told the motel clerk I was his wife."