Mobile Homes

One fellow, who lacked any particular passion towards the everyday things that seem to interest most men, one day remarked, “I wish I had something to dedicate my life to.”  And Life, lurking behind a near-by mimosa tree, retorted, “Ah, but you do, my lad, ah, but you do.”



This one guy, after episodes whereby he disappointed or offended himself, would write notes to himself expressing his regret and his hope that the latest event would not jeopardize their friendship.  Then one day, after years of this, he suddenly said, “If I get any more of these notes from me, I’ll gag.”  And then he thought, “I don’t have to take it to such a crude point.  I could just say that I fail to find any specific benefit in these notes – plus, they make me wanna gag.”



(Eighty-four percent of what’s said in apartments and mobile homes is non-returnable.)



After being reprimanded for the burgeoning habit of referring to himself in the third person, a youngish lad snapped to a near-by uncle, “Hey, it could be worse.  I could treat myself in such a manner.”



This one final guy, gazing at his beloved in the mirror, intoned, “My dear, habit becomes you.”