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About the cover

  D e s e r t   E x p o s u r e   July 2010


Loving and Losing & Skinny-Dipping

Plus painting the porch, digging holes and praying.

Losing the battle of the sexes We launch into July with a little fireworks from the gender wars. First, this from David in the Mimbres — and we don't want to know how a man got this story, told from the female point of view:

"I had lunch with two of my unmarried friends. One is engaged, one is a mistress, and I have been married for 20-plus years. We were chatting about our relationships and decided to amaze our men by greeting them at the door wearing a black bra, stiletto heels and a mask over our eyes. We agreed to meet in a few days to exchange notes. Here's how it all went:

"My engaged friend: 'The other night when my boyfriend came over, he found me with a black leather bodice, tall stilettos and a mask. He saw me and said, "You are the woman of my dreams. I love you." Then we made passionate love all night long.'

"The mistress: 'The other night I met my lover at his office and I was wearing a raincoat, under it only the black bra, heels and mask over my eyes. When I opened the raincoat he didn't say a word, but he started to tremble and we made love wildly all night.'

"Then I had to share my story: When my husband came home, I was wearing the black bra, black stockings, stilettos and a mask over my eyes. When he came in the door and saw me, he said, 'What's for dinner, Batman?'"

Then there's this tale of how breaking up really is hard to do, courtesy of RobertH:

"Dear Wife:

" I'm writing this letter to tell you that I'm leaving you forever. I've been a good man to you for seven years and I have nothing to show for it. These last two weeks have been hell.

"Your boss called to tell me that you quit your job today, and that was the last straw. Last week, you came home and didn't even notice I had a new haircut, had cooked your favorite meal, and even wore a brand-new pair of silk boxers. You ate in two minutes and went straight to sleep after watching all of your soaps. You don't tell me you love me any more; you don't want sex or anything that connects us as husband and wife. Either you are cheating on me or you don't love me any more. Whatever the case, I'm gone.

"Your EX-Husband

"PS: Don't try to find me. Your SISTER and I are moving to West Virginia together. Have a great life!"


"Dear Ex-Husband:

"Nothing has made my day more than receiving your letter. It's true you and I have been married for seven years, although a good man is a far cry from what you've been. I watch my soaps so much because they drown out your constant whining and griping. I DID notice when you got a haircut last week, but the first thing that came to mind was, 'You look just like a girl!' Since my mother raised me 'not to say anything if you can't say something nice,' I didn't comment. And when you cooked my favorite meal, you must have gotten me confused with my SISTER, because I stopped eating pork seven years ago. About those new silk boxers: I turned away from you because the $49.99 pricetag was still on them, and I prayed it was a coincidence that my sister had just borrowed $50 from me this morning.

"After all of this, I still loved you and felt we could work it out. So when I hit the Lotto for $10 million, I quit my job and bought us two tickets to Jamaica. But when I got home, you were gone. Everything happens for a reason, I guess.

"I hope you have the fulfilling life you always wanted. My lawyer said that the letter you wrote insures you won't get a dime from me. So take care.

"Signed, Your Ex-Wife, Rich as Heck and Free!

"PS: I don't know if I ever told you this, but my sister Carla was born 'Carl.' I hope that's not a problem."

Finally, short but definitely not sweet, there's this yarn from the links, sent in by the Silver City Greek:

"Verne was teeing off from the men's tee. On his downswing, he realized that his wife, Lucrecia, was teeing up on the woman's tee directly in front of him. Unable to stop his swing, he nailed it, and hit her directly in the temple, killing her instantly.

"A few days later, Verne got a call from the coroner regarding her autopsy.

"Coroner: 'Verne, your wife seemed to have died from blunt force trauma to the head. You said you hit a golf ball and hit her in the temple, is that correct?'

"Verne: 'Yes, sir, that's correct.'

"Coroner: 'Well, inexplicably I found a golf ball wedged up her bottom.'

"Verne: 'Was it a Titleist 3?'

"Coroner: 'Yes, it was.'

"Verne: 'That was my mulligan.'"

You're only as old as you feel If you have any trouble following this joke from Aletteration, try having somebody read it to you really LOUD:

"An older gentleman was telling his neighbor, 'I just bought a new hearing aid. It cost me $4,000, but it's state of the art. It's perfect.'

"'Really,' answered the neighbor. 'What kind is it?'

"'Twelve thirty.'"

Persons of the blonde persuasion Our apologies, as usual, to all the brilliant blondes out there, who may substitute the hair hue of their choice in this yarn from Toni in the Vet's Office:

"Two blonde girls were working for the city public works department. One would dig a hole and the other would follow behind her and fill the hole in. They worked up one side of the street, then down the other, then moved on to the next street, working furiously all day without rest, one girl digging a hole, the other girl filling it in again.

"An onlooker was amazed at their hard work, but couldn't understand what they were doing. So he asked the hole digger, 'I'm impressed by the effort you two are putting in to your work, but I don't get it — why do you dig a hole, only to have your partner follow behind and fill it up again?'

"The hole digger wiped her brow and sighed, 'Well, I suppose it probably looks odd because we're normally a three-person team. But today the girl who plants the trees called in sick.'"

Ditto for this one from Teresa O, although some may view it as a victory of sorts for blonde humankind:

"A blonde teenage girl, wanting to earn some extra money for the summer, decided to hire herself out as a 'handy-woman' and started canvassing a nearby well-to-do neighborhood. She went to the front door of the first house, and asked the owner if he had any odd jobs for her to do.

"'Well, I guess I could use somebody to paint my porch,' he said. 'How much will you charge me?'

"Delighted, the girl quickly responded, 'How about $50?'

"The man agreed and told her that the paint brushes and everything she would need were in the garage. The man's wife, hearing the conversation, said to her husband, 'Does she realize that our porch goes ALL the way around the house?'

"He responded, 'That's a bit cynical, isn't it?'

"The wife replied, 'You're right. I guess I'm starting to believe all those dumb-blonde jokes.'

"Later that day, the blonde came to the door to collect her money. 'You're finished already?' the startled husband asked.

"'Yes,' the blonde replied, 'and I even had paint left over, so I gave it two coats.'

"Impressed, the man reached into his pocket for the $50 and handed it to her along with a $10 tip.

"'And by the way,' the blonde added, 'it's not a Porch, it's a Lexus.'"

Send your tales of battling genders, getting old, blondes and the just plain funny to Desert Diary, diary@desertexposure.com



Divine intervention Since inevitably it's an Irish priest in this yarn from Ned Ludd, we guess we could also have labeled this one "the luck of the Irish":

"An Irish priest is driving down to New York and gets stopped for speeding in Connecticut. The state trooper smells alcohol on the priest's breath and then sees an empty wine bottle on the floor of the car. He says, 'Sir, have you been drinking?'

"'Just water,' says the priest.

"The trooper says, 'Then why do I smell wine?'

"Eyes wide, the priest looks at the bottle and says, 'Good Lord! He's done it again!'"

You're only as old as you feel, round two Another tale of old age, this one with a wily twist, courtesy of Cardmomma in the Burros:

"An elderly man in North Carolina had owned a large farm for several years. He had a large pond in the back, fixed up really nice, along with some picnic tables, horseshoe courts, and some apple and peach trees. The pond was properly shaped and fixed up for swimming when it was built.

"One evening the old farmer decided to go down to the pond, as he hadn't been there for a while, and look it over. He grabbed a five-gallon bucket to bring back some fruit. As he neared the pond, he heard voices shouting and laughing with glee. When he came closer, he realized it was a bunch of young women skinny-dipping in his pond. He made the women aware of his presence and they all went to the deep end to shield themselves.

"One of the women shouted to him, 'We're not coming out until you leave!'

"The old man frowned and replied, 'I didn't come down here to watch you ladies swim naked or make you get out of the pond naked.' Holding the bucket up, he said, 'I'm here to feed the alligator.'"

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