An old Italian man and his wife were having dinner at a very fine restaurant when this absolutely stunning young woman comes over to their table, gives the husband a big open-mouthed kiss, then says she'll see him later and walks away.
The wife glares at her husband and says, "Who was that?"
"Oh," replies the husband, "she's my mistress."
"Well, that's the last straw," says the wife. "I've had enough, I want a divorce!"
"I can understand that," replies her husband, "but remember, if we get a divorce it will mean no more shopping trips to Paris, no more wintering in Barbados, no more summers in Tuscany, no more Jaguar in the garage and no more yacht club. No more credit card and large bank accounts. But... The decision is all yours."
Just then, a mutual friend enters the restaurant with a gorgeous babe on his arm.
"Who's that woman with Tony?" asks the wife.
"That's his mistress," says her husband.
"Ours is prettier," she replies.
A small, elderly man slowly shuffled into an ice cream parlor and carefully pulled himself onto a stool at the counter, wincing the whole time.
After a moment of catching his breath and wiping his brow, he ordered a hot fudge sundae. Writing down his order, the waitress asked, "Crushed nuts?"
"No," he breathed wearily. "Rheumatism."
Eager to strike up a conversation he blurted out, “Business trip or pleasure?”
She turned, smiled and said, “Business. I’m going to the Annual Nymphomaniacs of America Convention in Chicago.”
He swallowed hard. Here was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen sitting next to him, and she was going to a meeting of nymphomaniacs. Struggling to maintain his composure, he calmly asked, “What’s your business role at this convention?”
“Lecturer,” she responded. “I use information that I have learned from my personal experiences to debunk some of the popular myths about sexuality.”
“Really?” he said. “And what kind of myths are there?”
“Well, she explained, “one popular myth is that African American men are the most well-endowed of all men, when in fact it is the Native American Indian who is most likely to possess that trait. Another popular myth is that Frenchmen are the best lovers, when actually it is the men of Jewish descent who are the best. I have also discovered that the lover with absolutely the best stamina is the Southern Redneck.”
Suddenly the woman became a little uncomfortable and blushed. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I shouldn’t really be discussing all of this with you. I don’t even know your name.”
“Tonto,” the man said, “Tonto Goldstein, but my friends call me Bubba.”
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