Slay.me

Six retired Jewish Floridian fellows were playing poker in the condo Clubhouse when Meyer loses $500 on a single hand, clutches his chest and Drops dead at the table.

Showing respect for their fallen comrade, the other five continue playing, But standing up..

At the end of the game, Finklestein looks around and asks, “So, who’s gonna Tell his Vife?”

They cut the cards.. Goldberg picks the low card and has to carry the news.

They tell him to be discreet, be gentle, don’t make a bad situation any Worse.

“Discreet?  I’m the most discreet person you’ll ever meet.  Discretion is my Middle Name.  Leave it to me.”

Goldberg goes over to the Meyer’s condo and knocks on the door.

The wife Answers through the door and asks what he wants?

Goldberg declares: “Your husband just lost $500 in a poker game and is Afraid to come home.”

“Tell him to drop dead!” yells the wife.

“I’ll go tell him.” says Goldberg.*

A fifteen year old Amish boy and his father were in a mall. They were amazed by almost everything they saw, but especially by two shiny,  silver walls that could move apart and then slide back together again.

The boy asked, ‘What is this Father?’

The father (never having seen an elevator) responded, ‘Son, I have never seen anything like this in my life, I don’t know what it is.’

While the boy and his father were watching with amazement, a fat old  lady in a wheel chair moved up to the moving walls and pressed a  button. The walls opened, and the lady rolled between them into a  small room. The walls closed and the boy and his father watched the small numbers above the walls light up sequentially.

They continued to watch until it reached the last number and then the numbers began to light in the reverse order.

Finally the walls opened up again and a gorgeous 24-year-old blond stepped out.

The father, not taking his eyes off the young woman, said quietly to his son…..

‘Go get your Mother’

A woman was at her hairdresser’s getting her hair styled for a trip to Rome with her husband.. She mentioned the trip to the hairdresser, who responded:

” Rome ? Why would anyone want to go there? It’s crowded and dirty… You’re crazy to go to Rome . So, how are you getting there?”

“We’re taking Continental,” was the reply. “We got a great rate!”

“Continental?” exclaimed the hairdresser. ” That’s a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are ugly, and they’re always late. So, where are you staying in Rome ?”

“We’ll be at this exclusive little place over on Rome’sTiber River called Teste.”

“Don’t go any further. I know that place. Everybody thinks its gonna be something special and exclusive, but it’s really a dump.”

“We’re going to go to see the Vatican and maybe get to see the Pope.”

“That’s rich,” laughed the hairdresser. “You and a million other people trying to see him. He’ll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on this lousy trip of yours. You’re going to need it.”

A month later, the woman again came in for a hairdo. The hairdresser asked her about her trip to Rome

“It was wonderful,” explained the woman, “not only were we on time in one of Continental’s brand new planes, but it was overbooked, and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were wonderful, and I had a handsome 28-year-old steward who waited on me hand and foot..

And the hotel was great!

They’d just finished a $5 million remodeling job, and now it’s a jewel, the finest hotel in the city.
They, too, were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us their owner’s suite at no extra charge!”

“Well,” muttered the hairdresser, “that’s all well and good, but I know you didn’t get to see the Pope.”

“Actually, we were quite lucky, because as we toured the Vatican , a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder, and explained that the Pope likes to meet some of the visitors, and if I’d be so kind as to  step into his private room and wait, the Pope would personally greet  me.

Sure enough, five minutes later, the Pope walked through the door and shook my hand! I knelt down and he spoke a few words to me.”

“Oh, really! What’d he say ?”

He said : “Who fucked up your hair?”