A buddy called me and told me that his daughter is getting married.
I asked him to whom and he said, “I dunno. He’s some kinda doctor.”
“That’s all you know that your daughter’s getting married to ’some kinda doctor’?”
“Yeah, what?” he said wondering if he should know more.
“Well personally I’d want to know what kind of quack my daughter was marrying,”
I said. “I mean, what if he’s a gynecologist? Those guys are freaky. Can you imagine what kind of guy you’d have to be to spend your days sitting on a short kiddy stool between chick’s legs, staring at their clams…?”
“Hey man!” he shouted. “Shut the hell up. That’s my daughter you’re talking about!”
“Relax. I wasn’t talking about your daughter. All women spread them and say ‘aahh’. Even your wife.”
“Hey man!”
“Relax, buddy. Look on the bright side, he’s probably checked her out, and you can bet he wouldn’t marry her unless she had a good one…I mean she was healthy.”