It’s Saturday morning and Bob’s just about to set off on a round of golf when he realizes that he forgot to tell his wife that the guy who fixes the washing machine is coming around at noon. So Bob heads back to the clubhouse and phones home.
“Hello?” says a little girl’s voice.
“Hi, honey, it’s Daddy, ” says Bob. “Is Mommy near the phone?”
“No, Daddy. She’s upstairs in the bedroom with Uncle Frank.” After a brief pause, Bob says, “But you haven’t got an Uncle Frank, honey!”
“Yes, I do, and he’s upstairs in the bedroom with Mommy!”
“Okay, then. Here’s what I want you do. Put down the phone, run upstairs and knock on the bedroom door and shout in to Mommy and Uncle Frank that my car’s just pulled up outside the house.”
“Okay, Daddy!” A few minutes later, the little girl comes back to the phone. “Well, I did what you said, Daddy.”
“And what happened?”
“Well, Mommy jumped out of bed with no clothes on and ran around screaming, then she tripped over the rug and went out the front window and now she’s all dead.”
“Oh, my God! What about Uncle Frank?”
“He jumped out of bed with no clothes on too, and he was all scared and he jumped out the back window into the swimming pool. But he must have forgot that last week you took out all the water to clean it, so he hit the bottom of the swimming pool and now he’s dead too.”
There is a long pause.
“Swimming pool? Is this 854-7039?”
A golfer stands over his tee shot for what seems an eternity to his partner. He looks up, looks down, measures the distance and figures the wind direction and speed. The longer he takes, the more his partner fidgets.
Finally his exasperated partner says, “What’s taking so long? Hit the blasted ball.”
The guy answers, “My wife is up there watching me from the clubhouse. I want to make this a perfect shot.”
“Forget it, man,” the partner says. “You’ll never hit her from here.”
A woman golfer suffers a nasty bee sting and leaves the course to go see her doctor about it.
“What happened?” asked the doctor.
“I got stung between the first and second hole,” replied the lady golfer.
The doctor replied, “You must have an awfully wide stance!”
I think that I shall never see
a hazard rougher than an tree;
A tree o’er which my ball must fly
if on the green it is to lie;
A tree which stands that green to guard,
and makes the shot extremely hard;
A tree whose leafy arms extend
to kill the six iron shot I send;
A tree that stands in silence there,
while angry golfers rave and swear.
Irons were made for fools like me
who cannot ever miss a tree.
A husband and wife love to golf together, but neither of them are playing like they want to, so they decide to take private lessons. The husband has his lesson first. After the pro sees his swing, he says, “No no, no, you’re gripping the club way too hard!”
“Well, what should I do?” asks the man.
“Hold the club gently,” the pro replied, “just like you’d hold your wife’s breast.”
The man takes the advice, takes a swing, and POW! He hits the ball 250 yds. straight up the fairway. The man goes back to his wife with the good news, and the wife can’t wait for her lesson.
The next day the wife goes for her lesson. The pro watches her swing and says, “No, no, no, you’re gripping the club way too hard.”
“What can I do?” asks the wife. “Hold the club gently, just like you’d hold your husband’s penis.” The wife listens carefully to the pro’s advice, takes a swing, and THUMP. The ball goes straight down the fairway. . . about 15 ft.
“That was great,” the pro says with a straight face. “Now, take the club out of your mouth and swing it like you’re supposed to!”
A couple of women were playing golf one sunny Saturday morning. The first of the twosome teed off and watched in horror as her ball headed directly toward a foursome of men playing the next hole.
Indeed, the ball hit one of the men, and he immediately clasped his hands together at his crotch, fell to the ground and proceeded to roll around in evident agony.
The woman rushed down to the man and immediately began to apologize. She explained that she was a physical therapist: “Please allow me to help. I’m a physical therapist and I know I could relieve your pain if you’d allow me!”, she told him earnestly.
“Ummph, oooh, nnooo, I’ll be alright…I’ll be fine in a few minutes”, he replied breathlessly as he remained in the fetal position still clasping his hands together at his crotch.
But she persisted, and finally allowed her to help him. She gently took his hands away an laid them to the side, she loosened his pants, and she put her hands inside. She began to massage him. She then asked him: “How does that feel?”
To which he replied: “It feels great, but my thumb still hurts like hell.”