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and a promise for Fred Mertz to "spend some time" with her.

Was her name Marylou?

A guy was sitting quietly reading his paper when his wife walked up behind him and whacked him on the head with a shoe.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"That was for the piece of paper in your pants pocket with the name Marylou written on it," she replied.

"Two weeks ago when I went to the races, Marylou was the name of one of the horses I bet on," he explained.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry," she said. "I should have known there was a good explanation."

Three days later he was watching TV again when she walked up and hit him in the head again, this time with the iron skillet, which knocked him out cold.

When he came to, he asked, "What the heck was that for?"

"Your horse called."

My brother was in Rodger Young's outfit...

The Ballad of Rodger Young
No, they’ve got no time for glory in the Infantry.
No, they’ve got no use for praises loudly sung,
But in every soldier’s heart in all the Infantry
Shines the name, shines the name of Rodger Young.
Shines the name—Rodger Young!
Fought and died for the men he marched among.
To the everlasting glory of the Infantry
Lives the story of Private Rodger Young.
Caught in ambush lay a company of riflemen—
Just grenades against machine guns in the gloom—
Caught in ambush till this one of twenty riflemen
Volunteered, volunteered to meet his doom.
Volunteered, Rodger Young!
Fought and died for the men he marched among.
In the everlasting annals of the Infantry
Glows the last deed of Private Rodger Young.
It was he who drew the fire of the enemy
That a company of men might live to fight;
And before the deadly fire of the enemy
Stood the man, stood the man we hail tonight.
On the island of New Georgia in the Solomons,
Stands a simple wooden cross alone to tell
That beneath the silent coral of the Solomons,
Sleeps a man, sleeps a man remembered well.
Sleeps a man, Rodger Young,
Fought and died for the men he marched among.
In the everlasting spirit of the Infantry
Breathes the spirit of Private Rodger Young.
No, they’ve got no time for glory in the Infantry,
No, they’ve got no use for praises loudly sung,
But in every soldier’s heart in all the Infantry
Shines the name, shines the name of Rodger Young.
Shines the name—Rodger Young!
Fought and died for the men he marched among.
To the everlasting glory of the Infantry
Lives the story of Private Rodger Young.
-- by Frank Loesser

Fresh from her shower, a woman stands in front of the mirror, complaining to her husband that her breasts are too small.

Instead of characteristically telling her it's not so, the husband uncharacteristically comes up with a suggestion.

"If you want your breasts to grow, then every day take a piece of toilet paper and rub it between your breasts for a few seconds."

Willing to try anything, the wife fetches a piece of toilet paper and stands in front of the mirror, rubbing it between her breasts.

"How long will this take?" she asks.

"They'll grow larger over a period of years," he replies.

The wife stops. "Why do you think rubbing a piece of toilet paper between my breasts every day will make my breasts grow over the years?"

"Worked for your butt, didn't it?"

He lived, and with a great deal of physical therapy, may even walk again.