My friends say I’m lazy because all I do is sit in my lounge chair all day.
I’m half inclined to agree with them.
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Differences between men and women:
Let’s say a guy named Roger is attracted to a woman named Elaine. He asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time. A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and after a while neither one of them is seeing anybody else.
And then, one evening when they’re driving home, a thought occurs to Elaine, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud: “Do you realize that, as of tonight, we’ve been seeing each other for exactly six months?” And then there is silence in the car.
To Elaine, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: Geez, I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he’s been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I’m trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he doesn’t want, or isn’t sure of.
And Roger is thinking: Gosh. Six months.
And Elaine is thinking: But, hey, I’m not so sure I want this kind of relationship, either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I’d have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily toward… I mean, where are we going? Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading toward marriage? Toward children? Toward a lifetime together? Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know this person?
And Roger is thinking: …so that means it was… let’s see… February when we started going out, which was right after I had the car at the dealer’s, which means…lemme check the odometer… Whoa! I am way overdue for an oil change here.
And Elaine is thinking: He’s upset. I can see it on his face. Maybe I’m reading this completely wrong. Maybe he Wants more from our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed-even before I sensed it-that I was feeling some reservations. Yes, I bet that’s it. That’s why he’s so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He’s afraid of being rejected.
And Roger is thinking: And I’m gonna have them look at the transmission again. I don’t care what those morons say, it’s still not shifting right. And they better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time. What cold weather? It’s 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting like a garbage truck, and I paid those incompetent thieves $600.
And Elaine is thinking: He’s angry. And I don’t blame him. I’d be angry, too. I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can’t help the way I feel. I’m just not sure.
And Roger is thinking: They’ll probably say it’s only a 90-day warranty…scumbags.
And Elaine is thinking: Maybe I’m just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I’m sitting right next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care about me. A person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.
And Roger is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I’ll give them a warranty. I’ll take their warranty and shove it…
“Roger,” Elaine says aloud.
“What?” says Roger, startled.
“Please don’t torture yourself like this,” she says, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. “Maybe I should never have… Oh gosh, I feel so…” (She breaks down, sobbing.)
“What?” says Roger.
“I’m such a fool,” Elaine sobs. “I mean, I know there’s no knight. I really know that. It’s silly. There’s no knight, and there’s no horse.”
“There’s no horse?” says Roger.
“You think I’m a fool, don’t you?” Elaine says.
“No!” says Roger, glad to finally know the correct answer.
“It’s just that…it’s that I… I need some time,” Elaine says.
(There is a 15-second pause while Roger, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one that he thinks might work.) “Yes,” he says.
(Elaine, deeply moved, touches his hand.) “Oh, Roger, do you really feel that way?” she says.
“What way?” says Roger.
“That way about time,” says Elaine.
“Oh,” says Roger. “Yes…”
(Elaine turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks.)
“Thank you, Roger,” she says.
“Thank you,” says Roger.
Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Roger gets back to his place, he opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply involved in a rerun of a tennis match between two Czechs he never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the car, but he is pretty sure there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures it’s better if he doesn’t think about it.
The next day Elaine will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification. They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting bored with it, either.
Meanwhile, Roger, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual friend of his and Elaine’s, will pause just before serving, frown, and say:
“Norm, did Elaine ever own a horse?”
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Only one person in the world thinks I am a nightmare to live with, and that is my wife.
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I need to talk to a few of my close friends about that.
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Genius
Johnny and Mary have lived on neighbouring farms for most of their lives. They get along well. Johnny drops by Mary’s place for a chat once in a while, helps out with odd handyman-type jobs. Mary will occasionally call on Johnny with a nice flan made from the apples in her orchard. They’re very relaxed in each other’s company, and will often spend the evening watching television together. After twenty years of this, Mary thinks it’s time their relationship moved to the next level.
“Johnny, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you about for a long time.”
“Sure, Mary, go right ahead, ask me anything!”
“Johnny, did you ever think … did you ever wonder … if maybe you and I should … you know … get married?”
Johnny bursts out laughing, much to Mary’s chagrin.
“What’s so funny?”
“Ah Mary, sure, who’d have us?”
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A very pretty young speech therapist was getting nowhere with her Stammerers Action group. She had tried every technique in the book without the slightest success.
Finally, thoroughly exasperated, she said "If any of you can tell me the name of the town where you were born, without stuttering, I will make passionate love to you . So, who wants to go first ?
"The Englishman piped up. “B-b-b-b-b-b-b-irmingham”, he said.
“That’s no use, Trevor” said the speech therapist, “Who’s next ?”
The Scotsman raised his hand and blurted out “P-p-p-p-p-p-p-aisley”.
That’s no better. There’ll be no love making for you I’m afraid, Hamish.
How about you, Paddy ?
The Irishman took a deep breath and eventually blurted out " London ".
Brilliant, Paddy! said the speech therapist and immediately set about living up to her promise.
After 15 minutes of exceptionally steamy love making, the couple paused for breath and Paddy said
“-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-erry”.
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Finally - a cat picture on the internet that’s actually amusing!
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I suspect that this is a chimera - cells in different parts of the body have different genetic make-up - and I would bet that it is female. Very interesting.
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As a cat owner, I don’t see why this is amusing.
She is, look at the shape of her head.
That’s not a chimera, that’s mosaicism. It may not even be mosaicism, she could simply be a torti with an unusually differentiated colour pattern and ocular heterochromia (which isn’t all that unusual in cats). Her left pupil also seems to be ‘blown’ (which would fit with the mosaicism theory, or could have one of many other causes); however, I suspect she may be blind in that eye.
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I overheard John McEnroe saying he’d quite like to be the President of a Middle-Eastern country.
I tapped him on the shoulder and said, “You cannot be Syria’s.”
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You may well be right - can’t tell without counting chromosomes, though I suppose mosaicism is more common.
Even when involving chromosomes, it’s still mosaicism, (e.g. ovotesticular syndrome in humans is typically caused by 46XX/46XY mosaicism). The only time mosaicism becomes a true chimera is if it involves a cross-species hybrid.
Perhaps I should point out that I have a specific interest in “odd” genetics!
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Would someone explain this jokes punchline to me.
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Annoy the cat enough and she’ll provide a ‘punch line’ - or rather several parallel ones drawn in blood on your skin!
(Alternatively, given my genetics, I may be the punchline!)
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Yes, I know of your interest.
I’d dispute, though, that a chimera involves cross-species hybridisation. My understanding is that a chimera (in this sort of case) is the result of two zygotes fusing (fraternal twins), whereas mosaicism is from one zygote (with a somatic mutation in early development). So the chimera can be the fusion of two zygotes of the same sex, or two zygotes of different sex. Mosaicism will always be of one sex.
But IIRC another form of mosaicism can be in females where some cells from an embryo have become incorporated in the mother’s body.
It looks like the cat is made up of different cats - ginger cat, tabby cat, a blue eye and a yellow eye. It looks like the parts bin is nearly empty, and someone just grabbed whatever parts they could find and put them together.
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