A woman goes into the local newspaper office to see that the
obituary for her recently deceased husband is published. After
the editor informs her that the fee for the obituary is 50
cents a word, she pauses, reflects and then says, "Well, then,
let it read 'Fred Brown died'."

Confounded at the woman's thrift, the editor stammers that there
is a 7-word minimum for all obituaries. The woman pauses again,
counts on her fingers and replies, "In that case, 'Fred Brown
died: 1983 Pick-up for sale'." 

I admitted to my friend that I hadn't had sex for a while.
My friend reassured me that I won't forget it, cuz sex is
like riding a bicycle.
I know it's been a while, but I don't ever remember pedaling... 

It had taken him several months, but the executive vice president
had finally persuaded his new secretary to bend over the back of
his leather couch and allow him to have sex with her that way.

"And just where have you been until this hour?" demanded his
wife, when the wayward husband finally arrived home.

"Down at the office," he replied, "working like a dog." 

What's the white stuff you find in the bottom of girls' undies? 
Clitty litter.

Do you know why single women can't fart? 

     Because, they don't get assholes untill they get married.