Murphy's Law:
Law: If anything can go wrong, it will
Corollary #1: It can
Corollary #2: It should
Corollary #3: At the most inopportune time
Extension #1: it will be all your fault, and everyone will know it.

THE GYNECOLOGIST WHO BECAME A MECHANIC


A gynecologist had become fed up with malpractice insurance and HMO paperwork, and was burned out. Hoping to try another career where skillful hands would be beneficial, he decided to become a mechanic.

He went to the local technical college, signed up for evening classes, attended diligently, and learned all he could. When the time of the
practical exam approached, the gynecologist prepared carefully for weeks,
and completed the exam with tremendous skill. When the results came back,
he was surprised to find that he had obtained a score of 150%.

Fearing an error, he called the Instructor, saying, "I don't
want to appear ungrateful for such an outstanding result, but I wonder if
there is an error in the grade?" "The instructor said, "During the exam,
you took the engine apart perfectly, which was worth 50% of the total
mark. You put the engine back together again perfectly, which is also worth
50% of the mark."

After a pause, the instructor added, "I gave you an extra 50% because you did it all through the muffler, which I've never seen done in my entire career".

If I look a little harassed & harried today, you will have to excuse me. I am still recovering from the living nightmare, which was the Children's Pet Show.

I knew I should never have agreed to judge the little monster's pets, but it is very hard to decline an invitation presented in the person of Miss Dorothy Smithers, the President of the CM Summer Fete committee, she being of the tweed suit, felt hat, huge bosom and brown brogues - you will, no doubt, have a mental picture fixed firmly in your brain at this point. She accosted me in one of my merrier moments in the Saloon Bar; celebrating the luscious Amanda's most recent win in the Chumley Martin Point-to-Point races.

Through the haze of too many G & Ts, I distinctly remember agreeing whole- heartedly to "pop in at 2.30 and run through the cuddlies for you".

Well, Saturday dawned, well it would have had, had you been able to see through the overcast low cloud and drizzle. After a brisk walk round the lake to shake off the excesses of the night before I wandered down to the show ground, more commonly known as the 'Village Green' at Noon to meet and greet, and to make use of the Refreshments tent!

By 2.30 I was feeling rather jolly, the sun had by this time come out, and I had consumed rather a good number of Pimms in its honour.

I walked into the Pet Show tent to be greeted by a vast array of furry, scaly, species (note, this was just the kiddie's Mothers!) and also a vast array of Pets - though how some of them could be classed as pets escapes any reasonable thinking man.

Well, I thought I was doing quite well, Bunnies, Cavies, and the odd Hamster etc. Then I got to "Fifi", a red kneed Tarantula - why anyone would a) want one of these for a pet, and b) call it Fifi, is beyond me, but it takes all sorts..... .. now, I should possibly raise the fact that I have a slight aversion to arachnids due to an unfortunate incident in the jungles of Malaysia, but I bravely opened the tank housing the quite large beast and made suitable noises. At this point I was probably distracted by something, well I know what, but mention of 5'10" blondes, unsuitably attired, at this juncture may detract from the missive underway. Anyhow, I must have not put the top on properly, as future events will testify to.....

I moved on to the other assorted creatures, including a rather fine Alpaca. By the end of the allotted time, I had made up my mind in the usual way at such gatherings what to pick for the winners. Well, I have to admit, the attentions of various of the Chumley Martin Mothers at the end of last week, had swayed me in some way, but in the end, I did the only thing possible. I took the best political decision, and picked the Vicar's Daughter's Rabbit, then the Alpaca belonging to one of the local farmer's sons and then, to ensure not all the mothers were put out, Fifi the Tarantula.

It was the point, when the awards were to be handed out, that my slight distraction came to light - it appears Fifi had found that I had incorrectly replaced her lid and, being the obviously mischievous arachnid that she undoubtedly is, she had debunked! The news of this incident soon swept the tent, probably speeded by the wails of despair from Davina, the 9 year old owner of said spider. As you can imagine, the considerable crowd of onlookers were rather galvanised by the thought of said poisonous spider in their midst, and, chaos ensued!

Luckily, Fifi, seemingly quite an intelligent member of the arachnid community, had taken refuge away from possible extinction by assorted riding boots, brogues and suchlike, by climbing up the side of the tent and resting near the top of the marquee. She was eventually seen, and following some searching for ladders etc. was returned to the tearful Davina, much to the considerable relief everyone else.

I do not somehow think Dorothy will be asking me to judge next year.

The IRS decides to audit Grandpa, and summons him to the IRS office.

The IRS auditor was not surprised when Grandpa showed up with his attorney.

The auditor said, 'Well, sir, you have an extravagant lifestyle and no full-time employment, which you explain by saying that you win money gambling. I'm not sure the IRS finds that believable.'

'I'm a great gambler, and I can prove it, 'says Grandpa. 'How about a demonstration? '

The auditor thinks for a moment and said, 'Okay. Go ahead.'

Grandpa says, 'I'll bet you a thousand dollars that I can bite my own eye.'

The auditor thinks a moment and says, 'It's a bet.'

Grandpa removes his glass eye and bites it. The auditor's jaw drops.

Grandpa says, 'Now, I'll bet you two thousand dollars that I can bite my other eye.'

Now the auditor can tell Grandpa isn't blind, so he takes the bet

Grandpa removes his dentures and bites his good eye.

The stunned auditor now realizes he has wagered and lost three grand, with Grandpa's attorney as a witness. He starts to get nervous.

'Want to go double or nothing?' Grandpa asks 'I'll bet you six thousand dollars that I can stand on one side of your desk, and pee into that wastebasket on the other side, and never get a drop anywhere in between.'

The auditor, twice burned, is cautious now, but he looks carefully and decides there's no way this old guy could possibly manage that stunt, so he agrees again.

Grandpa stands beside the desk and unzips his pants, but although he strains mightily, he can't make the stream reach the wastebasket on the other side, so he pretty much urinates all over the auditor's desk.

The auditor leaps with joy, realizing that he has just turned a major loss into a huge win.

But Grandpa's own attorney moans and puts his head in his hands.

'Are you okay?' the auditor asks.

'Not really', says the attorney. 'This morning, when Grandpa told me he'd been summoned for an audit, he bet me twenty-five thousand dollars that he could come in here and pee all over your desk and that you'd be happy about it!'

I keep telling you! Don't Mess with Old People!!

And if you're an IRS auditor, I'm one of those "Old People".

The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife goodbye and said, 'Well, I'm off now. The man should be here soon.'

Half an hour later, just by chance, a door-to-door baby photographer happened to ring the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. 'Good morning, Ma'am', he said, 'I've come to...'

'Oh, no need to explain,' Mrs. Smith cut in, embarrassed, 'I've been expecting you.'

'Have you really?' said the photographer. 'Well, that's good. Did you know babies are my specialty?'

'Well that's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat !.

After a moment she asked, blushing, 'Well, where do we start?'

'Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch, and perhaps a couple on the bed. And sometimes the living room floor is fun. You can really spread out there.'

'Bathtub, living room floor? No wonder it didn't work out for Harry and me!'

'Well, Ma'am, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I'm sure you'll be pleased with the results.'

'My, that's a lot!', gasped Mrs. Smith.

'Ma'am, in my line of work a man has to take his time. I'd love to be In and out in five minutes, but I'm sure you'd be disappointed with that.'

'Don't I know it,' said Mrs. Smith quietly.

The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of his baby pictures. 'This was done on the top of a bus,' he said.

'Oh, my God!' Mrs. Smith exclaimed, grasping at her throat.

'And these twins turned out exceptionally well - when you consider their mother was so difficult to work with.'

'She was difficult?' asked Mrs. Smith.

'Yes, I'm afraid so. I finally had to take her to the park to get the job done right. People were crowding around four and five deep to get a good look'

'Four and five deep?' said Mrs. Smith, her eyes wide with amazement.

'Yes', the photographer replied. 'And for more than three hours, too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling - I could hardly concentrate, and when darkness approached I had to rush my shots. Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just had to pack it all in.'

Mrs. Smith leaned forward. 'Do you mean they actually chewed on your, uh...equipment?'

'It's true, Ma'am, yes... Well, if you're ready, I'll set-up my tripod and we can get to work right away.'

'Tripod?'

'Oh yes, Ma'am. I need to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It's much too big to be held in the hand very long.'

Mrs. Smith fainted