Chapter 232

You can thank C barge‎ for these items.

A man takes a week off work and decides to play a round of golf every day. First thing Monday morning, he sets off and soon finds himself catching up with a stunning woman playing in front of him.

He suggests that they play against each other for the rest of the day and she agrees. The woman proves to be very talented, and wins on the last hole. Afterwards, she accepts the man’s offer of a lift home and, on the way, admits she hasn’t enjoyed herself so much for a long time.

“In fact,” she says, “why don’t you pull over so I can show you how much I appreciate it.”

So the man pulls over and, to his delight, the woman performs oral sex on him. They arrange to play golf again the next morning. Once again the woman wins, and she shows her appreciation in the same way on the journey home.

This goes on all week, until Friday, when the man reveals he has booked dinner at a restaurant and a night of passion in a hotel. On the way there, the woman suddenly bursts into tears.

“I can’t do it,” she says, “You see, I’m a transvestite.”

The man is aghast. He swerves violently off the road, and pulls the car to a screeching halt.

“You fucking cheat!” he screams. “You’ve been playing off the ladies’ tees all week.”

Q: How do you know when you’re really ugly?

A: Dogs close their eyes when they’re humping your leg

Memories from Chuck B ‎

When I was in an all-boys high school, back during World War II, there was a fellow student with the surname of Cherkov. You can imagine how a bunch of teen boys pronounced that name. He was something of what may now be called a geek, and would always try to be first to answer questions in class. There was one time though, in I think a history class, the instructor asked a question, and the young man madly waved his hand as usual. Perhaps the older male instructor was a bit peeved at the antics, and I will always recall the rather disgusted tone of his voice as he said, “Okay Cherkov, shoot.” Someone started snickering, and in a moment the entire class was rolling in laughter to the instructor’s apparent bewilderment. Except red faced Cherkov, of course.

True story, and one of my better memories of high school, along with how we always swam nude in swimming class, there being no need for coverage. There was an all-girls high school just across the street, and a few girls took some courses in our school which weren’t offered in theirs. Instructors or hallway monitors were always chasing away small groups of giggling girls who would gather in the corridor, at the perhaps quarter inch gap in the double doors at the shallow end of the pool, usually several heads up and down the crack.

“Ooh, look at that one.”

But I never saw anyone take names.