1. Joe’s Unexpected Cure

Joe sat on the edge of the examination table, white-knuckled and tense. The doctor cleared his throat and said, “I’ve got some news—good and bad. The good part: I can make those terrible headaches disappear. The bad part: it’ll mean removing… your manhood.”

Joe nearly fell off the table. “Excuse me?!”

The doctor gave a sympathetic shrug. “It’s a rare condition. Your, uh, private equipment is pressing on a nerve in your spine. Only permanent fix is… surgery.”

Joe had battled migraines for two decades, but this? After a week of agonizing over it—and one migraine so fierce he yelled at a toaster—he reluctantly agreed.

When the operation was over, the headaches were gone for the first time in twenty years. Yet instead of celebrating, Joe felt strangely incomplete.

To cheer himself up, he wandered into a high-end men’s shop. “I’d like a sharp new suit,” he told the tailor.

The elderly tailor squinted and said confidently, “You’re a 44 long.”

Joe’s eyes widened. “Exactly! How did you know?”

“Been fitting suits for sixty years,” the tailor said with a grin.

The suit fit flawlessly.

“How about a dress shirt?” the tailor offered. “Sixteen and a half neck, thirty-four sleeve.”

Joe was floored. “That’s spot-on!”

“Been in the trade sixty years,” the tailor repeated.

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Shirt—perfect.

“Shoes?” the tailor asked next. “Nine and a half E.”

Joe laughed in disbelief. “Unreal. You’re a wizard!”

“Sixty years,” the tailor said, chuckling.

Finally, the tailor held up a pair of boxers. “Need some new underwear? You’re a thirty-six.”

Joe smirked. “Ah, finally wrong! I’ve worn a thirty-four since I was eighteen.”

The tailor shook his head, dead serious. “If you wear a thirty-four, you’ll squeeze your testicles against your spine and get crushing headaches.”

Joe hit the floor in a dead faint.

2. The Forgetful Driver

Two elderly friends decided to take a spin in a big old sedan. Neither of them could see much over the dashboard, but off they went, chatting happily.

They came to their first intersection—bright red light. The car rolled straight through without slowing.

The passenger blinked. “Was that… red? Maybe I imagined it.”

A few blocks later they hit another intersection. Red again. Right through they went.

Now the passenger clutched the door handle. “That was definitely red. But… maybe I’m seeing things.”

Determined to be sure, she leaned forward as they approached the next light. It turned red—and once again, the car sailed right through!

She grabbed the driver’s arm and yelled, “Mildred! We’ve just blown through three red lights! We could get killed!”

Mildred turned wide-eyed and gasped, “Oh heavens… am I the one driving?!”

🤣🤣🤣

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