BITCHES TO THE END...

       

The doctor, after an
examination, sighed and said, "I've got some bad
news. You have cancer,
and you'd best put your affairs in order."

The woman was shocked,
but managed to compose herself and walk into the
waiting room where her
daughter had been waiting.

"Well, daughter, we women celebrate when
things are good, and we celebrate
when things don't go so well. In this
case, things aren't well. I have
cancer. So, let's head to the club and
have a martini."

After 3 or 4 martinis, the two were feeling a
little less sombre. There
were some chortles and more martinis. They were
eventually approached by
some of the woman's old friends, who were
curious as to what the two were
celebrating. The woman told her
friends they were drinking to her
impending end.

"I've been
diagnosed with AIDS."

The friends were aghast, gave the woman their
condolences and beat a hasty
retreat.

After the friends left,
the woman's daughter leaned over and whispered,
"Momma, I thought you
said you were dying of cancer, and you just told
your friends you were
dying of AIDS! Why did you do that?"

"Because I don't want any of
those bitches sleeping with your father after
I'm gone."

And
THAT, my friends, is what is called, "Putting Your Affairs In
Order."

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY

Women are like phones:
They
like to be held, talked to, and touched often.
But push the wrong
button and your ass is disconnected.