Cuckoo Clock

The New Yorker

Is a way of life
The other night I was invited out for a night with "the girls." I told my husband that I would be home by midnight, "I PROMISE!" Well, the hours passed and the margaritas went down way too easy. Around 3a.m., a bit loaded, I headed for home. Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckooed 3 times. Quickly, realizing my husband would probably wake up, I cuckooed another 9 times. I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution(even when I'm totally smashed), in order to escarpe a possible conflict with him.



The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, and I told him "Midnight". He didn't seem angry at all. WHEW!!!!! Got away with that one. Then he said, "We need a new cuckoo clock." When I asked him why, he said, "Well last night our clock cuckooed 4 more times, cleared it's throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the coffee table and farted.
 
Ahh so do I. salt on the hand and a lemon..... Oh yea, kick in the nuts to say the least. Those were the days... been a while for that
 
the only problem with cabo wabo is it is too smooth. none of that throat burn or shake after a shot. real easy to get f*k'd up on.
 

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