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If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome including toilet-flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out LOUD! Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the vet. Here's what happened: Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room. "He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?" I put my best lizard-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do. "Honey," I called, "come look at the lizard!" "Oh my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies." "What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!" I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce," I accused my wife. "Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!) "No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together). "Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed. "Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," she informed me. (again with the sarcasm, you think?) By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. "Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience, I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth." "Oh, gross!" they shrieked. "Well, isn't THAT just great! What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too. Don't you?) We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later. "We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted. "It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified. "Do something, Dad!" my son urged. "Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results. "Should I call 911," my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?) "Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap. "Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged. "I don't think lizards do La maze," his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for God's sake.) The Vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass. "What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically. "Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?" I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside. "Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked. "Oh, perfectly," the Vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor. In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen... Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um....um....masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back." He blushed, glancing at my wife. "Well, you know what I'm saying, Mr. Cameron." We were silent, absorbing this. "So Ernie's just...just... excited," my wife offered. "Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood. More silence. Then my viscous, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then even laugh loudly. "What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness. Tears were now running down her face. "It's just.....that......I'm picturing you pulling on its......its........teeny little......" she gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more. "That's enough," I warned. We thanked the Vet and hurriedly bundled the lizards and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay. "I know Ernie's really thankful for what you've done, Dad," he told me. "Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter. 2 - Lizards - $140... 1 - Cage - $50... Trip to the Vet - $30... Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's wacker.......Priceless

How to Avoid the Flu Eat right! Make sure you get your daily dose of fruits and veggies. Take your vitamins and bump up your vitamin C. Get plenty of exercise because exercise helps build your immune system. Walk for at least one hour a day, go for a swim, take the stairs instead of the elevator, etc. Wash your hands often. If you can't wash them, keep a bottle of antibacterial stuff around. Get lots of fresh air. Open windows whenever possible. Get plenty of rest. Try to eliminate as much stress from your life as you can. OR .... You can take the doctor's office approach. Think about it, when you go for a shot, what do they do first? Clean your arm with alcohol. Why? Because alcohol kills germs. So...... I walk to the liquor store (exercise), I put lime in my Corona (fruit), celery in my Bloody Mary (veggies), drink on the bar patio (fresh air), get drunk, tell jokes, and laugh (eliminate stress) and then pass out (rest). The way I see it, if you keep your alcohol levels up, flu germs can't get you!

CURTAIN RODS She spent the first day packing her belongings into boxes, crates and suitcases. On the second day, she had the movers come and collect her things. On the third day, she sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining room table by candlelight, put on some soft background music, and feasted on a pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar, and a bottle of Chardonnay. When she had finished, she went into each and every room and deposited a few half-eaten shrimp shells, dipped in caviar, into the hollow of the curtain rods. She then cleaned up the kitchen and left. When the husband returned with his new girlfriend, all was bliss for the first few days. Then slowly, the house began to smell. They tried everything; cleaning and mopping and airing the place out. Vents wre checked for dead rodents, and carpets were steam cleaned. Air fresheners were hung everywhere. Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, during which they had to move out for a few days, and in the end they even paid to replace the expensive wool carpeting. Nothing worked. People stopped coming over to visit... Repairmen refused to work in the house... The maid quit... Finally, they could not take the stench any longer and decided to move. A month later, even though they had cut their price in half, they could not find a buyer for their stinky house. Word got out, and eventually, even the local realtors refused to return their calls. Finally, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase a new place. The ex-wife called the man, and asked how things were going. He told her the saga of the rotting house. She listened politely, and said that she missed her old home terribly, and would be willing to reduce her divorce settlement in exchange for getting the house back... Knowing his ex-wife had no idea how bad the smell was, he agreed on price that was about 1/10th of what the house had been worth...But only if she were to sign the papers that very day. She agreed, and within the hour, his lawyers delivered the paperwork. A week later, the man and his new girlfriend stood smirking as they watched the moving company pack everything to take to their new home......including the curtain rods.

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