Author: Anonymous Page 57

“Someday I’ll run the CIA,” said Tom aspiringly.

Knitting: An exercise that gives women something to do when they are talking.

Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it.

Classical Jazz: Rock of ages.

Chicken: An egg factory.

She couldn’t catch a cold if it had handles.

It's as easy as falling off a piece of cake.

Love is a matter of chemistry; sex is a matter of physics.

Gigolo: A fee-male.

I'll bet she has her clothes made by Orville, the tent maker.

Golf: A pastime that gives people cooped up in the office all week a chance to lie and cheat outdoors.

Argument: A discussion where two people try to get the last word in first

Epitaph: A belated advertisement for a line of goods that has been permanently discontinued.

“I can’t march any more!” the soldier called haltingly.

It's like pulling hen's teeth.

The monkey is in your court.

“Can I go looking for the Grail again?” Tom requested.

Business Lunch: Lunch.

The father of the bride should realize he isn’t losing a daughter but gaining a bathroom.

“Here’s another baseball glove”, Tom admitted.

Why do psychics have to ask you for your name?