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A baby polar bear goes up to his dad and asks, "Dad, am I pure polar bear?"
The dad replies,
"Sure you are son.
Im all polar bear, my parents are all polar bear, your mom is all polar bear, and her parents are all polar bear."
Still unsure the baby polar bear goes to his mom and asks, "Mom, am I pure polar bear?"
She answers, "Of course you are honey.
Im all polar bear, your father is all polar bear, my parents are all polar bear, and his parents are all polar bear."
Still not convinced the baby polar bear goes to his grandparents and asks, "Grandmom... Grandpop... Am I all polar bear?"
His grandmother answers, "Of course you are sweetie.
Were all polar bear, your mother is all polar bear, your father is all polar bear, and his parents are all polar bear.
Why do you ask sweetie?" The baby polar bears replies,
"Because I m feeling **** cold and freezing!"
The young fellow is about to marry and asks his grandfather how often a married couple should have sеx.
His grandfather tells him, "When you first get married, you want it all the time, maybe several times a day; later on, maybe once a week. As you get older, you have sеx maybe once a month. When you get really old, you are lucky to have it once a year, maybe on your anniversary."
The young fellow asks, "How about you and Grandma?"
His grandfather replies, "Oh, we just have оrаl sеx now. She goes into her bedroom and I go into my bedroom. She yells, 'F**k you,' and I holler back, 'F**k you, too!'"
Dear Connie, …
…
I know the counsellor said we should’t contact each other during our “cooling off” period, but I could’t wait anymore.
…
The day you left, I swore I’d never talk to you again but that was just the wounded little boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make contact. In my fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to me. I guess my pride needed that. But now I see that me pride’s cost me a lot of things. I’m tired of pretending I don’t miss you. Maybe it’s time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. …
…
This is what my heart says: “There’s no one like you, Connie. I look for you in the eyes and вrеаsтs of every woman I see, but they’re not you. They’re not even close.
Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Flamingos and brought her home with me. I don’t say this to hurt you, but just to illustrate the depth of my desperation. She was young, maybe 19; with one of those perfect bodies that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I mean, just a perfect body. Тiтs like you wouldn’t believe and an аss that just wouldn’t quit. Every man’s dream, right?
As I sat on the couch being blown by this stunner, I thought, look at the stuff we’ve made important in our lives. It’s all so superficial. What does a perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well, in this case, yes, but you see what I’m getting at. Does it make her a better person? Does she have a better heart that my moderately attractive Connie? I doubt it. And I’d never really thought of that before. I don’t know, maybe I’m just growing up a little.
Later, after I’d tossed her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found myself thinking, “Why do I feel so drained and empty?” It wasn’t just her flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something else. Some nagging feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then it hit me. It didn’t feel the same because you weren’t there to watch. Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus, Connie, Im just going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of you.
Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at the Holiday Inn last year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said she figured I wasn’t eating right without a woman around. I didn’t know what she meant till later, but that’s not the real story. Anyway, we had a few glasses or wine and the next thing you know, we’re ваnging away in our old bedroom. And this таrт’s a total monster in the sack. She’s giving me everything, you know, like a real woman does when she’s not hung up about her weight or her career and whether the kids can hear us. And all of a sudden, she spots that tilting mirror on your grandmother’s old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it’s totally hot, but it makes me sad, too because I can’t help thinking, “Why didn’t Connie ever put the mirror on the floor? We’ve had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sеx toy.”
Saturday, your little sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Vicki’s just a kid and all, but she’s got a pretty good head on her shoulders and she’s been a real friend to me during this painful time. She’s given me lots of good advice about you and about women in general. She’s pulling for us to get back together. Connie, she really is.
So we’re doing Jell-O shots in a hot bubble bath and talking about happier times. Here’s this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and all I can do is think of how much she looked like you when you were 18. And that just about makes me cry. And then it turns out Vicky’s really into that whole аnаl thing, that gets me to thinking about how many times I pressured you about trying it and how that probably fueled some of the bitterness between us. But do you see how even then, when I’m thrusting inside your baby sister’s cinnamon ring, all I can do it think of you?
It’s true, Connie. In your heart you must know it. Don’t you think we could start over? Just wipe out all the grievances away and start fresh? I think we can. If you feel the same please, please, please let me know.
Otherwise, can you let me know where the fuскing remote is?
An 80-year old Italian man goes to the doctor for a check-up.
The doctor is amazed at what good shape the guy is in and asks, “How do you stay in such great physical condition?”
"I’m Italian and I am a golfer,” says the old guy,” and that’s why I’m in such good shape. I’m up well before daylight and out golfing up
and down the fairways. Have a glass of vino, and all is well.”
“Well,” says the doctor, “I’m sure that helps, but there’s got to be more to it. How old was your Dad when he died?”
”Who said my Dad’s dead?”
The doctor is amazed. “You mean you’re 80 years old and your Dad’s still alive. How old is he?”
“He’s 100 years old,” says the old Italian golfer. “In fact he golfed with me this morning, and then we went to the торlеss beach
for a walk, that’s why he’s still alive… he’s Italian and he’s a golfer too.”
“Well,” the doctor says, “that’s great, but I’m sure there’s more to it than that. How about your Dad’s Dad? How old was he when he
died?”
”Who said my grandpa’s dead?”
Stunned, the doctor asks, “You mean you’re 80 years old and your grandfather’s still living! Incredible, how old is he?”
“He’s 118 years old,” says the old Italian golfer. The doctor is getting frustrated at this point, “So, I guess he went golfing with
you this morning too?”
“No. Grandpa couldn’t go this morning because he’s getting married today.”
At this point the doctor is close to losing it. “Getting married! Why would a 118 year-old guy want to get married?”
”Who said he wanted to?”