Melissa Archibald
Jr. Member
- Joined
- Nov 26, 2014
- Messages
- 60
- Reaction score
- 31
- Golden Thread
- 0
- Primary Interest:
- All Treasure Hunting
- #1
Thread Owner
Something so funny that I found I thought y'all would love it
This is so funny, it has to be true...
If you have children you will probably relate to this father.
I Love Mustard. As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection: a
thick slab of ham on a fresh bun with crisp lettuce and plenty
of expensive, light brown, gourmet mustard. The corners of my
jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to the table in our
backyard, picked it up with both hands but was stopped by my
wife suddenly at my side.
"Here, hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I get my sandwich,"
she said.
I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and was
reaching again for the ham sandwich when I noticed a streak of
mustard on my fingers. I love mustard. I had no napkin. I
licked it off. It was not mustard. No man ever put a baby
down faster. It was the first and only time I have sprinted
with my tongue protruding. With a washcloth in each hand, I
did the sort of routine shoeshine boys do; only I did it
on my tongue.
Later, after she stopped crying from laughing so hard, my wife
said, Now you know why they call that fancy mustard . "Poupon."
When you stop laughing, pass it on
This is so funny, it has to be true...
If you have children you will probably relate to this father.
I Love Mustard. As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection: a
thick slab of ham on a fresh bun with crisp lettuce and plenty
of expensive, light brown, gourmet mustard. The corners of my
jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to the table in our
backyard, picked it up with both hands but was stopped by my
wife suddenly at my side.
"Here, hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I get my sandwich,"
she said.
I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and was
reaching again for the ham sandwich when I noticed a streak of
mustard on my fingers. I love mustard. I had no napkin. I
licked it off. It was not mustard. No man ever put a baby
down faster. It was the first and only time I have sprinted
with my tongue protruding. With a washcloth in each hand, I
did the sort of routine shoeshine boys do; only I did it
on my tongue.
Later, after she stopped crying from laughing so hard, my wife
said, Now you know why they call that fancy mustard . "Poupon."
When you stop laughing, pass it on
