A wife decides to take her husband to a strip club for his birthday.

They arrive at the club and the doorman says, “Hey, John! How ya doin’?”

His wife is puzzled and asks if he’s been to this club before.

“Oh, no,” says John. “He’s on my bowling team.”

When they are seated, a waitress asks John if he’d like his usual and brings over a beer.

His wife is becoming increasingly uncomfortable and says, “How did she know that you like that kind of beer?”

“She’s in the Ladies’ Bowling League, honey. We share lanes with them.”

A stripper then comes over to their table, throws her arms around John, and says “Hi Johnny. Want your usual table dance, big boy?”

John’s wife – now furious – grabs her purse and storms out of the club.

John follows and spots her getting into a cab. Before she can slam the door, he jumps in beside her. He tries desperately to explain how the stripper must have mistaken him for someone else, but his wife is having none of it. She is screaming at him at the top of her lungs, calling him every name in the book.

The cabby turns his head and says, “Looks like you picked up a real bitch tonight, John.”

“A man explained inflation to his wife thus: ‘When we married, you measured 36-24-36. Now you’re 42-42-42. There’s more of you, but you are not worth as much.’” — Lord Barnett

“Money isn’t everything but it sure keeps you in touch with your children.” — J. Paul Getty

“Some people get so rich they lose all respect for humanity. That’s how rich I want to be.” — Rita Rudner

“My problem lies in reconciling my gross habits with my net income.” — Errol Flynn

“If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to.” — Dorothy Parker

One summer afternoon, Former President Bill Clinton and his wife Hillary were vacationing in their home state of Arkansas. After a long road trip, they stopped at a service station to fill up their car with gas.

As it turns out, the owner of the gas station was Hillary’s old high school boyfriend. They exchanged hello’s and brief chit-chat before the former White House couple went on their way.

As they were making their way back home, Bill put his arm around Hillary and said, “Well, honey… if you had stayed with him, you would now be the wife of a service station owner.”

She smirked and replied, “No Bill, if I had stayed with him… he would have been the President of the United States.”

One day an Irishman, who had been stranded on a deserted island for over ten years, saw a speck on the horizon. He thought to himself, “It’s certainly not a ship.”

As the speck got closer and closer, he began to rule out the possibilities of it being a boat or a raft.

Suddenly there strode from the surf a figure clad in a black wet suit. Putting aside the scuba tanks and mask and zipping down the top of the wet suit stood a drop-dead gorgeous blonde!

She walked up to the stunned Irishman and said to him, “Tell me, how long has it’s been since you’ve had a good cigar?”

“Ten years,” replied the amazed Irishman.

With that, she reached over and unzipped a waterproof pocket on the left sleeve of her wet suit and pulled out a fresh package of cigars and a lighter.

He took a cigar, slowly lit it, and took a long drag. “Faith and begorrah,” said the castaway, “that is so good! I’d almost forgotten how great a smoke can be!”

“And how long has it been since you’ve had a drop of good Bushmill’s?” asked the blonde.

Trembling, the castaway replied, “Ten years.”

Hearing that, the blonde reached over to her right sleeve, unzipped a pocket there and removed a flask and handed it to him.

He opened the flask and took a long drink. ” ‘Tis nectar of the gods!” cried the Irish man. ” ‘Tis truly fantastic!”

At this point the gorgeous blonde started to slowly unzip the long front of her wet suit, right down the middle. She looked at the trembling man and asked, “And how long has it been since you’ve played around?”

With tears in his eyes, the Irishman fell to his knees and sobbed, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Don’t tell me that you’ve got golf clubs in there too!”

Some insights on the BBQ ritual: When a man volunteers to do the BBQ the following chain of events are put into motion:

Routine…
1. The woman buys the food.
2. The woman makes the salad, prepares the vegetables and makes dessert.
3. The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill – his favorite beer in hand.
4. The woman remains outside the compulsory three meter exclusion zone where the exuberance of testosterone and other manly bonding activities can take place without the interference of the woman.

Here comes the important part:
5. The Man places the meat on the grill.

More routine…
6. The woman goes inside to organize the plates, glassware and cutlery.
7. The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is looking great. He thanks her and asks if she will bring another beer while he flips the meat.

Important note:
8. The Man takes the meat off the grill and hands it to the woman.

More routine…
9. The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins, sauces, and brings them to the table.
10. After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes.

And most important of all:
11. Everyone praises the Man and thanks him for his cooking efforts.

After this, the Man asks the woman how she enjoyed “her night off,” and upon seeing her annoyed reaction, concludes that there’s just no pleasing some women.

A woman asks her husband, “Would you like some bacon and eggs? A slice of toast and maybe some grapefruit and coffee for breakfast?”

He declines. “Thanks for offering, but I’m not hungry right now. It’s this Viagra,” he says. “It’s really taken the edge off my appetite.”

At lunchtime she asked if he would like something. “A bowl of soup, homemade muffins, or a cheese sandwich?”

He declines. “The Viagra,” he says, “really trashes my desire for food.”

Come dinner time, she asks if he wants anything to eat.

“Would you like a juicy rib-eye steak and scrumptious apple pie? Or maybe a rotisserie chicken or tasty stir fry?”

He declines again. “No,” he says, “it’s got to be the Viagra… I’m still not hungry.”

“Well,” she says, “Would you mind letting me up? I’m starving!”

It was with much dismay that Rachael discovered her husband Harold had a mistress.

Rachael, however, was not the sort to kill the golden goose, rather she decided to find out what the mistress had that she didn’t.

After a long interrogation Harold finally relented.

“Well, to tell you the truth, Rachael, you are too cold. When we make love you don’t do anything. You just lay there, whereas she moans and groans with feeling.”

“Is that all?” thought Rachael. “Is that all there is to it?”

That night she dressed in her most alluring lingerie, slipped Harold a shot of his favorite cognac and got him into bed.

Half way through the business she decided to give him her most passionate moans and groans.

“Oh Harold, darling,” she began, “I’ve had the most terrible day. Our shares dropped two points, the maid quit and you don’t give me enough housekeeping money…”