Granted, that did not make much sense, but you try listening to a baby cry for 37 hours straight and see how clever you are.
Instead, here's a joke my dad thought up during the Olympics 10 years ago. He had always wanted to think up a joke, and I remember he was so proud when he thought of it, fulfillment of a lifelong dream type of thing.
Ok . . . . ready?
Why are there no fat ice skaters?
Because they all drowned.
(For those that don't get it, they were so fat they fell thru the ice . . . and drowned.)
We are all going out to dinner tonight, my houseguests and their screaming baby boy included.
Outback Steakhouse. No Rules. Those lying bastards, the last time I was there and tried to order off of the kid's menu, they told me no. Apparently there is at least one rule.
My suggestion to leave the baby home alone with a bowl of water and some food was ignored, as was my suggestion to put a little rum in his bottle to calm him down.
What? Babies love rum.
2005-10-05 at 12:58 p.m.