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The other night I was invited out for a night with "the girls".

I told my husband that I would be home by midnight ... "I promise!"

Well, the hours passed and the champagne was going down way too easy.

Around 3 a.m., drunk as a skunk, I headed for home. Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckooed 3 times. Quickly, realizing he'd probably wake up, I cuckooed another 9 times. I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution (even when smashed), in order to escape a possible conflict.

The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, and I told him 12 o'clock. He didn't seem disturbed at all. Whew! Got away with that one! Then he said we need a new cuckoo clock. When I asked him why, he said, "Well, last night our clock cuckooed three times, then said, "Oh shit!", cuckooed 4 more times, cleared it's throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then farted.