I seem to remember having quite a good laugh hanging around a street corner near Trafalgar Square with you back in the summer at the World Internet Summer UK! Well, for the first half an hour or so, anyway… Only just heard your news, and am sending you love and strength across the pond.

Laughter truly is the best possible therapy! I’m best at very long shaggy dog stories which only really work in person, so here’s one of my simplest short jokes for you - sing along and don’t forget the actions…

I’m a little teapot,
Tall and stout.
Here’s my handle,
Here’s my handle…
Oh shoot, I’m a sugarpot!

Hope that brings a tiny giggle - have a nice cup of tea, and I’ll tell you one of the shaggy dog stories next time we’re waiting for a taxi together for what seems like forever
Sarah x

My elderly uncle (84) recently spent 20 days in a nursing home for rehabilitation. One day while he was there, he looked out the window and spotted three elderly female residents lying on the ground completely nude. He immediately pushed the button for a nurse. When he told her the look out the window, she did and replied, nonchalantly, “Oh, those ladies we prostitutes in their younger days and they are just having a yardsale”.

Congrats for being a brave girl - I’ve been there and got the breast cancer T-shirt too and I know how it feels. I also know how many women DO survive for many, many years after BC - and many of those have started with a diagnosis similar to yours. Don’t forget that the “50-50″ statistic covers the widest possible range of standards of care and many other variables; the reality in your case could be somewhat higher odds.

As you like to laugh, have a look at my blog: CancerComicStrip, http://www.cancercomicstrip.blogspot.com. Have a good look through the archives, too. There are some very, very funny stories about BC, in particular those written by a great friend of mine in Minnesota. As you say in one of your posts, laughter is very good medicine.

Good luck and keep me posted on your progress!

SUZE ST MAUR

“With the low lake levels, a waterskier recently found a 55-gallon drum. When police investigated, they found a skeleton in the container. The container was filled with cement. Authorities suspect foul play.”

Now I ask you, how often to you find a skeleton in cement *without* foul play??

Keep smiling, Sylvie! We’re wishing you well -

Jeanette

I am one of your W4H girls and I have been keeping you and your family in my prayers. I received this in my inbox tonight and immediately thought of you! Thinking of you and wishing you a speedy recovery. Enjoy! :o)

Ali

A blonde (or brunette or redhead . . . no prejudice intended, but you get the picture!) enters a store that sells curtains. She tells the salesman, “I would like to buy a pair of pink curtains.”
The salesman assures her that they have a large selection of pink curtains.

He shows her several patterns, but the blonde seems to have a hard time choosing. Finally she selects a lovely pink floral print. The salesman then asks what size curtains she needs.

The blonde promptly replies, “Fifteen inches.”

“Fifteen inches?” asked the salesman. “That sounds very small - what room are they for?”

The blonde tells him that they aren’t for a room, but they are for her computer monitor.

The surprised salesman replies, “But miss, computers do not need curtains!”

The blond says, “Hellllooooooooo! I’ve got Windoooooows!”

This series jogged a horrible memory from my past.

Ten years ago, when I was first married, my wife really wanted to “integrate” into my family. We’re Colorado natives, so you might be keen to the fact that hunting is part of the culture (at least for natives!). So in order to fit in, the wife decided that she’d get a license and come along on an Elk hunt.

We take a sort of “group” approach to hunting… and try to move animals toward each other as we hunt. So I placed my wife on a ridge where she could see a decent-sized valley in front of her, and decided I’d walk around behind the hill and see if I could scare anything around to her.

I made sure she was very clear on how this whole thing worked: “Now, make SURE you put your tag (license) on the Elk immediately after you get it, and then climb up where you can loacate me… and I’ll come help you with it. There’s lots of idiots out there that will take your Elk if you don’t tag it.”… “Got it!”, she said.

Well, I hiked around the side of the hill, and I wasn’t gone more than 15 minutes when I heard a shot from her direction…

So I immediately turned around to walk back to her. When I approached, sure enough, she was standing over a downed animal. “One shot! Wow!”, I thought. The shooting practice had paid off. But standing there next to her was a man in a cowboy hat… As I got closer, I could hear that they were arguing…

“No, No, NO! This is MY ELK! I put my tag on it!”, She was arguing..

…

“Fine Lady, FINE!”, the man in the cowboy hat said; “Just let me get my saddle off of it first!”.

http://www.jibjab.com/jokebox/sarahmorgan0_1

Here’s a joke that made me laugh out loud for real! I’ve posted it in my jokebox on Jibjab.com. I’m including a link to my jokebox on Jibjab.com. There are so many jokes, commercials and movies in the jokebox that searching through never fails to evoke a laugh when I’m desperate for it! Sure hope the link works!

Lizard Birthing…

If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome including toilet flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out LOUD!

Overview: I had to take my son’s lizard to the vet. Here’s what happened: Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was “something wrong” with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room. “He’s just lying there looking sick,” he told me. “I’m serious dad, can you help?”

I put my best lizard-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do. “Honey,” I called, ” come look at the lizard!”

“Oh my! gosh,” my wife diagnosed after a minute. “She’s having babies.” “What?” my son demanded. “But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!” I was equally outraged. “Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn’t want them to reproduce,” I accused my wife. “Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?” she
inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!)

“No, but you were supposed to get two boys!” I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together).

“Yeah, Bert and Ernie!” my son agreed.

“Well, it’s just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know,” she informed me. (again with the sarcasm, you think?)

By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. “Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience, I announced. “We’re about to witness the miracle of birth.”

“Oh, gross!” they shrieked. “Well, isn’t THAT just great! What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?” my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too. Don’t you?)

We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later. “We don’t appear to be making much progress,” I noted. “It’s breech,” my wife whispered, horrified.

“Do something, Dad!” my son urged. “Okay, okay.” Squeamishly , I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried
several more times with the same results.

“Should I call 911,” my eldest daughter wanted to know. “Maybe they could talk us through the trauma.” (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)

“Let’s get Ernie to the vet,” I said grimly. We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap. “Breathe, Ernie, breathe,” he urged.

“I don’t think lizards do Lamaze,” his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for God’s sake.)

The Vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.

“What do you think, Doc, a C-section?” I suggested scientifically.

“Oh, very interesting,” he murmured. “Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?”

I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside. “Is Ernie going to be okay?” my wife asked.

“Oh, perfectly,” the Vet assured us. “This lizard is not in labour. In fact, that isn’t EVER going to happen… Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um…. um…. masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back.” He blushed, glancing at my wife.

“Well, you know what I’m saying, Mr. Cameron.” We were silent, absorbing this.

“So Ernie’s just… just… excited,” my wife offered.

“Exactly,” the vet replied, relieved that we finaly understood.

More silence. Then my viscous, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then even laugh loudly. “What’s so funny?” I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.

Tears were now running down her face. Laughing “It’s just… that… I’m picturing you pulling on its… its… teeny little…” she gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.

“That’s enough,” I warned. We thanked the Vet and hurriedly bundled the lizards and our son back into the car.

He was glad everything was going to be okay.

“I know Ernie’s really thankful for what you’ve done, Dad,” he told me.

“Oh, you have NO idea,”

Closed mouth, my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.

1 - Lizards - $140…

2 - Cage - $50…

3 - Trip to the Vet - $30…

4 - Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard’s winkie…..
Priceless~!

Moral of the story - finish biology class - lizards lay eggs

Here’s a joke, commenting on the politeness of Canadians.

How do you get 100 Canadians out of a pool?

“…Would everyone please leave the pool”.

It’s not very funny…but I bet you’re laughing…just to be polite. (-:

-P

Here’s a nice joke for you…

One day a little girl was sitting and watching her mother do the dishes at the kitchen sink. She suddenly noticed that her mother had several strands of white hair sticking out in contrast on her brunette head.

She looked at her mother and inquisitively asked, “Why are some of your hairs white, Mom?”

Her mother replied, “Well, every time that you do something wrong and make me cry or unhappy, one of my hairs turns white.”

The little girl thought about this revelation for a while and then said, Momma, how come ALL of grandma’s hairs are white?”