A Spoonful of Medicine
She won’t take her medicine.
Why not?
She hates the taste.
Does she enjoy having pneumonia?
Let me ask her. Hold on. No, she doesn’t. She wants to play handball.
No medicine, no school, no handball.
I’ll see what I can do.
You’re the adult. Keep that in mind.
I’m the adult. This is important.
Very important.
I could resort to force, hold her mouth open and pour the stuff down her throat.
Oh, that’s elegant.
She just locked herself in the bathroom. How’s the conference?
Scintillating. Threaten to take her Nintendo away. That might motivate her.
Didn’t work. By the way, I played Brain Age and discovered that, brain-wise, I’m 60 years old. You have no idea how disconcerted this makes me feel.
The next session’s about to start. Please get her to take her medicine. Love you.
I’m not sure I’m cut out for fatherhood.
Several years late for that revelation, sweetie.
Girl’s Best Friend
Would you rather a man be a retard in the kitchen or the bedroom?
Depends on what stage the relationship is in. Early on I want great sex, adventurous sex, impulsive sex, frequent sex, inspired sex.
When physical passion fades a well-cooked meal is almost as good as sex. Penne pesto with chicken. Green salad. Decent bottle of wine. Something homemade for dessert.
Custard or a chocolate mousse.
Regular sex is a bonus when you hit that stage.
Be thankful your sex life isn’t thwarted by erectile dysfunction.
The dreaded ED.
Cialis. Viagara. Levitra.
Call your health professional if you experience a 4-hour erection.
Sudden drop in blood pressure.
Blurred vision.
Irregular heartbeat.
A vibrator is more reliable.
Completely dependable.
And immune to pharmaceutical complications.
Re-chargeable batteries help.
They’re a necessity.
My husband has no idea.
Neither does mine.
Men are retarded.
Hopelessly.
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