Here are yarns where women come out, if not on top, then at least
- 1 Funny Short Women's Stories
- 2 Reverse Psychology?
- 3 TheAmusing and Thought-Provoking Story of Sand and Stone
- 4 More Short Tales Where Women Come Out On Top
- 5 There's No Fury Like a Woman Scorned!
- 6 VirginiaWoolf Impersonates Emperor of Abyssinia
- 7 Another Short Story for Women
- 8 Short Stories For Women
- 9 Don't Mess with the Elderly
- 10 A Funny Shaggy Dog Tale from the Atlanta Daily
- 11 Warning - Women'sBody Parts Move
- 12 Gone Fishing
- 13 Another Short Story Women Can Relate to their Cooking Experience
- 14 Battleground: LeftoversBy Charlene Wexler
- 15 See more clean woman jokes, funny stories andamusing PowerPoint Presentations
Funny Short Women's Stories
- Reverse Psychology?
- Thought-Provoking Story of Sand and Stone
- There's No Fury Like a
Woolf Impersonates Emperor of Abyssinia
- Mail Order - Mail Order?
- Warning - Women's Body
- Battleground: Leftovers
Iris, my sister-in-law, is a long distance lorry driver. She
decided to get a dog for protection for the long days and nights that she
was away from home. As she studied a likely candidate, the breeder
told her, 'I must warn you that he doesn't like men.'
'Perfect', Iris thought and promptly bought the dog.
Some time later as she was leaving a transport café, two men approached
her, in the car park, and Iris watched to see how her new 'bodyguard' would
react. It soon became clear that the breeder hadn't been joking, because as
the men got closer, the dog ran under the nearest car and hid.
story tells of two friends, Amanda and Margot, who were walking together on
the edge of the Sahara the desert in north Africa.
During some point of
the journey, they had an argument, and Margot slapped the other one in the
face. Mandy, who got slapped, was hurt, but without saying anything, she
wrote in the sand, 'Today my best friend, Margot, slapped me in the face.'
They kept on walking, until they found an oasis, where they decided to
take a bath. Mandy who had been slapped, got stuck in the mire and started
drowning, and naturally her friend, Margot, saved her by pulling her out of
the quicksand. After she recovered from the near drowning, Mandy wrote on a
stone, 'Today, my best friend Margot saved my life.'
Margot who had
slapped and saved her best friend, asked Mandy, 'After I hurt you, you wrote
in the sand, and now, you write on a stone, why?'
Mandy replied with a
knowing smile, 'When someone hurts us, we should write it down in sand,
where the winds of forgiveness can erase it, but when someone does something
good for us, we must engrave it in stone, so no wind can ever erase it.'
Learn to write your hurts in the sand and carve your blessings in stone.
More Short Tales Where Women Come Out On Top
On the first day Margo packed all her belongings into boxes, crates and
suitcases. On the second day, she had the movers come and collect her
things. On the third day, Margo sat down for the last time at their
beautiful dining room table by candlelight, put on some soft background
music, and feasted on a pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar, and a bottle of
When she had finished, she went into each an every room and deposited few
half-eaten anchovies dipped in caviar down the curtain rods.
When Margo's husband Ralph returned with his new girlfriend Tracey, all
was bliss for the first few days. Then slowly, the house began to smell.
They tried everything, cleaning, mopping, and airing the place out. Vents
were checked for dead rodents, and carpets were steam cleaned. Air
fresheners were hung everywhere.
Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, during which they
had to move out for a few days, and in the end they even paid to replace the
expensive wool carpeting.....Nothing worked. People stopped coming over to
visit. Repairmen refused to work in the house. The maid quit. Finally, they
could not take the stench any longer and decided to move.
A month later, even though they had cut their price in half, Ralph and
Tracey could not find a buyer for their stinky house. Word got out, and
eventually, even the local realtors refused to return their calls.
Finally, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase
a new place. Then Margo called Ralph, and asked how things were going and he
told her the saga of the rotting house. She listened politely, and said that
she missed her old home terribly, and would be willing to reduce her divorce
settlement in exchange for getting the house back.
Knowing his ex-wife had no idea how bad the smell was, Ralph agreed on a
price that was about 1/10th of what the house had been worth, but only if
she were to sign the papers that very day. She agreed, and within the hour
his lawyers delivered the paperwork.
A week later Ralph and Tracey stood smiling as they watched the moving
company pack everything to take to their new home - including the curtain
On February 10, 1910, six friends [including the young Virginia Woolf -
English novelist] boarded H.M.S. Dreadnought disguised as the Emperor of
Abyssinia, his Abyssinian cohorts, and an interpreter.
The British Navy came out in full colours to receive their distinguished
guests, who were dressed in costumes, with dyed skin and hair, and speaking
a language they were inventing as they went.
Virginia Woolf (circled), Duncan Grant, Horace Cole, Anthony Buxton
(seated), Adrian Stephen, Guy Ridley
Mail / Male Order?
Two Irish men, Kearney and O'Riordan were looking at a Mail order
catalogue and admiring the models. Kearney remarks to O'Riordan, 'Have you
seen the beautiful girls in this catalogue?'
O'Riordan replies, 'Yes, they are very beautiful. And look at the price.'
Kearney says, with wide eyes, 'Wow, they aren't very expensive. At this
price, I'm buying one.'
O'Riordan, smiles and pats him on the back. 'Good idea. Order one and if
she's as beautiful as she is in the catalogue, I will get one too.'
Three weeks later, Kearney, the youngest of the two asks his friend,
O'Rordan, 'Did you ever receive the girl you ordered from that catalogue?'
O'Riordan replies with a glint in his eye, 'No, but it shouldn't be long
now. She sent all her clothes yesterday.'
Short Stories For Women
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box because we have a large selection of amusing yarns, tall tales and
short stories about women in our other sections.
Doris Mason, a little old lady living in Cheltenham, England, answered a
knock on the door one day, to be confronted by a well-dressed young man
carrying a vacuum cleaner.
'Good morning, Ma'am,' said the young man. 'If I could take a couple
minutes of your time, I would like to demonstrate the very latest in vacuum
'Go away!' said Doris brusquely. 'I'm broke and haven't got any money for
new fangled contraptions,' and she proceeded to close the door.
Quick as a flash, the young man wedged his foot in the door and pushed it
wide open. 'Don't be too hasty,' he commanded. 'Not until you have at least
seen my demonstration.' And with that, he emptied a bucket of horse manure
onto her dining room carpet.
'Now, if this vacuum cleaner does not remove all traces of this horse
manure from your carpet, Madam, I will personally eat the remainder.'
Doris stepped back and said with a smile, 'Well let me get you a spoon,
young man because Southern Electric cut off my power this morning.'
A Funny Shaggy Dog Tale from the Atlanta Daily
SINGLE BLACK FEMALE seeks male companionship, ethnicity unimportant. I'm
a very good looking girl who LOVES to play. I love long walks in the woods,
riding in your pickup truck, hunting, camping and fishing trips, cosy winter
nights lying by the fire. Candlelight dinners will have me eating out of
your hand. Rub me the right way and watch me respond. I'll be at the front
door when you get home from work, wearing only what nature gave me. Kiss me
and I'm yours. Call (404) 875-6420 and ask for Daisy.
Over 15,000 men found themselves talking to the Atlanta Humane Society
about an 8-week old golden Labrador retriever dog.
Men are so easy....
See more shaggy dog stories.
[Open letter from Ms
This is an explanation to those friends and family who have experienced mysterious switches of their body parts. This effect is especially noticeable in January.
You may have read of the scare story about the man whose kidneys were stolen while he was passed out. Well, read on. While
the kidney story was an urban myth, my story is true - it occurs to me practically every day.
My thighs were stolen from me during the night a few years ago. It was just that quick. I went to sleep in my body and woke
up with someone else's
The new ones had the texture of cooked oatmeal. Who would have done such a cruel thing to legs that had been mine for years? Whose thighs were these and what happened to
mine? I spent the entire summer looking for my thighs. Finally, hurt and angry, I resigned myself to living out my life in jeans and Sheer Energy pantyhose.
Then, just when my guard was down, the thieves
struck again. My butt was next.
I know it was the same gang, because they took pains to match my new rear end (although badly attached at least three inches lower than my original) to the thighs they
stuck me with earlier.
Now, my rear end complimented my legs, lump for lump. Frantic, I prayed that long skirts would stay in fashion.
It was two years ago when I realized my arms had been switched.
One morning I was fixing my hair and I watched horrified but fascinated as the flesh of my upper arms swung to and fro with the motion of the hairbrush.
This was really getting scary. My body was being
replaced one section at a time. How clever and fiendish.
Age? Age had nothing to do with it. Age is supposed to reap, unnoticed, something like maturity.
NO, I was being attacked repeatedly and
without warning. In despair I gave up my T-shirts. What could they do to me next? My poor neck disappeared more quickly than the Thanksgiving turkey it now resembled.
why I decided to tell my
story. I can't
take on the medical profession by myself.
Women of the world, wake up and smell the coffee. That really isn't
plastic that those surgeons are using. You KNOW where they are getting those
replacement part, don't
The next time you suspect someone has had a face '
lifted', look again. Was it lifted from you? I think I finally found my thighs...and I hope Cindy Crawford paid a really good
price for them!
This is not a hoax. This is happening to women in every town every night. WARN YOUR FRIENDS.
Alex had a terrible day fishing on the lake, sitting in the blazing sun all day without catching a single one. On his way home, he stopped at the fishmonger and ordered four rainbow trout. He told the
fishmonger, 'Pick four large ones out and throw them at me, will you?'
'Why do you want me to throw them at you?' Asked the salesman?'
So that I am able to tell my wife, in all honesty, that I caught them',
'Okay, but I suggest that
you take the salmon.'
'Because your wife came in earlier today and said that if you came by, I should tell you to take salmon. That's
what she'd like for supper tonight',
the fishmonger with a grin.
Another Short Story Women Can Relate to their Cooking Experience
Here is an original story from my favourite living author.
"The most remarkable thing about my mother is that for 30 years she
served the family nothing but leftovers. The original meal has never been
found." - Calvin Trillin
In a restaurant, if I turned to talk with the friends we were dining with
or went to the ladies' room, my plate of food would disappear.
No, it wasn't that the waiters were so efficient. It was my husband, Sam,
who was packing up our half-eaten orders to make sure we had leftovers at
Sam came from a family in which plates were cleaned and no food was ever
thrown out. I came from a family in which it was good manners to leave
something on your plate, and leftovers were sometimes eaten the next day,
but just as often thrown out. Our differences concerning leftovers were not
as troubling when there were two growing boys and a dog in the family. But
now that we are retired empty nesters, leftovers have become a battleground.
I could be happy that Sam's attitude minimizes my need to cook. If I make
a meal from scratch one day a week and we eat out two, Sam can stretch the
leftovers to cover our meals for the rest of the week, or even more.
Although I may be required to make the leftover chicken into a pot pie, the
leftover beef into chop suey, or the bread that is about to turn green into
I can handle converting leftovers into another meal, but I can't handle
watching them turn moldy. I've tried to tell Sam that the cat ate the food,
but that line doesn't work the way it did when we had dogs. That darn cat
won't touch any people food but tuna, and Sam knows it.
Many mornings are spent with Sam asking, "Did you throw out my ...?"
Usually, I actually didn't. It is just that the refrigerator is so packed
with styrofoam or aluminum foil containers that he can't find what he is
looking for. Then, once every two weeks, I brace myself for a fight and
clean out the refrigerator in anticipation of new leftovers.
There must be a leftover gene. On the day of my marriage, my
mother-in-law was busy packing wedding food into her shopping bag; the
refrigerator at my son Mike's house is full of styrofoam and aluminum foil
"After 45 years I guess I can't change Sam," I said to myself recently as
I munched on week-old chocolate cake.
I don't consider chocolate in the leftover category.
See more writing by Charlene
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