Post #61145 by Unga Bunga on Thu, Nov 20, 2003 2:29 PM

Mustard
Monica went to the dry cleaners and said," Excuse me, I wold like to get my dress cleaned."
And the little old man was barely able to hear her and said,"What did you say?"
She replied,"I would like to get my dress cleaned sir."
And the old man still could not hear her and said,"Come again?"

She replied."
No, Mustard."

(copied/pasted from the internet)
As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection.

A thick slab of ham, a fresh bun, crisp lettuce and plenty of expensive, light brown, gourmet mustard.

The corners of my jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to the table in our backyard, picked it up with both hands but was stopped by my wife suddenly at my side.

"Hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I get my sandwich," she said.

I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and was reaching again for the ham sandwich when I noticed a streak of mustard on my fingers.

I love mustard.

I had no napkin.

I licked it off.

It was not mustard.

No man ever put a baby down faster.

It was the first and only time I have sprinted with my tongue protruding.

With a washcloth in each hand, I did the sort of routine shoeshine boys do, only I did it on my tongue.

Later (after she stopped crying from laughing so hard) my wife said,

"Now you know why they call that mustard..."Poupon."

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[ Edited by: Unga Bunga on 2003-11-20 15:17 ]