The Geography of a Woman

• Between 18 and 22, a woman is like Africa. Half discovered, half wild, fertile and naturally beautiful!
• Between 23 and 30, a woman is like Europe. Well developed and open to trade, especially for someone of real value.
• Between 31 and 35, a woman is like Spain, very hot, relaxed and convinced of her own beauty.
• Between 36 and 30, a woman is like Greece, gently aging but still a warm and desirable place to visit.
• Between 41 and 50, a woman is like Great Britain, with a glorious and all conquering past.
• Between 51 and 60, a woman is like Israel, has been through war, doesn’t make the same mistakes twice, takes care of business.
• Between 61 and 70, a woman is like Canada, self-preserving, but open to meeting new people.
• After 70, she becomes Tibet. Wildly beautiful, with a mysterious past and the wisdom of the ages, An adventurous spirit and a thirst for spiritual knowledge.

The Geography of a Man

• Between 1 and 80, a man is like Iran, ruled by the nuts.

The End.

Once upon a time, my husband sat me down in the den with my favorite magazine, turned on the soft reading lamp, slipped off my shoes, patted and propped my feet and announced that he was preparing dinner all by himself.

“How romantic!” I thought.

Two-and-a-half hours later, I was still waiting for dinner to be served. I tip-toed to the kitchen and found it a colossal mess. My harried husband, removing something indescribable from the smoking oven, saw me in the doorway.

“Almost ready!” he vowed. “Sorry it took me so long – I had to refill the pepper shaker.”

“Why, honey, how long could that have taken you?”

“More’n an hour, I reckon. Wasn’t easy stuffin’ it through those dumb little holes.”

One day my housework-challenged husband decided to wash his Sweat-shirt.

Seconds after he stepped into the laundry room, he shouted to me, ‘What setting do I use on the washing machine?’

‘It depends,’ I replied.

‘What does it say on your shirt?’ He yelled back,

‘University of Oklahoma.’ And they say blondes are dumb…

After a meeting I was coming out of a hotel and I was looking for my car keys. They were not in my pockets.

A quick search in the meeting room… it wasn’t there.

Suddenly I realized I must have left them in the car. My husband has shouted many times for leaving the keys in the ignition. My theory is, the ignition is the best place not to lose them. His theory is that the car will be stolen. Immediately I rushed to the parking lot, I came to a terrifying conclusion. His theory was right. The parking lot was empty.

I immediately called the police. I gave them my location, car number and description of the place where I parked etc. I equally confessed that I had left my keys in the car, and that it had been stolen.

Then I made the most difficult call of all, to my husband!!!

“Honey,” I stammered; I always call him “honey” in times like these.

“I left my keys in the car, and it has been stolen.

“There was a period of silence. I thought the call had been dropped, but then I heard his voice.

“Idiot”, he shouted, “I dropped you at the hotel !”

Now it was my time to be silent. Embarrassed, I said, “Well, come and get me.”

He shouted again, “I will, as soon as I manage to convince this policeman that I have not stolen your car.”