This guy dies and meets St. Peter at the pearly gates. Peter gets out his book on this guy's life and says, "You know, you've lived a pretty average life, You haven't done anything so bad that I would feel really right about sending you down below, but you haven't really done anything that good either. I'll tell you what--if you can tell me just one thing you did during your life that was really good, I'll let you in."
The guy says, "okay, well I was driving down the highway when I saw this gang of bikers assaulting this girl. So I slammed on my brakes, grabbed my tire iron, jumped out of my car and ran straight at the leader of the pack. He was huge, with a mohawk haircut, hairy all over, and he had a huge link chain running from his nose to his ear. So I grabbed his chain, pulled as hard as I could, and whapped him on the head. Then I turned to his gang and screamed, 'who wants some of this!! Who wants some pain!!!'"
St. Peter is extremely impressed, and says, "wow, I had no idea. That is really something. When did this happen?"
And the guy says, "oh, about 2 minutes ago."
On the early years of marriage. "The young years are often those when either husband or wife--or both--may still be in school or in those earliest and leanest stages of developing the husband's breadwinning capacities. Finances fluctuate daily between low and nonexistent. The apartment is usually decorated in one of two smart designs--Deseret Industries provincial or early Mother Hubbard. The car, if there is one, runs on smooth tires and an empty tank. But with night feedings and night teethings, often the greatest challenge of all for a young mother is simply fatigue. Through these years, mothers go longer on less sleep and give more to others with less personal renewal for themselves than any other group I know at any other time in life. It is not surprising when the shadows under their eyes sometimes vaguely resemble the state of Rhode Island."
A blonde wanted to sell her car, but couldn't find any buyers. She called her friend for advice, and her friend asked her how many miles she had on her car.
"235,000 miles." Her friend told her that was the problem. But the blonde's friend told her that her brother is a mechanic and could put back the miles to whatever she wanted. So the blonde went to the mechanic and told him to put the miles at 40,000. Two days later the blond's friend asked her if she sold the car since her brother dropped the miles. The blonde told her, "Why would I sell the car? There are only 40,000 miles on it!"
