Why does a great deli give away ice cream but not wifi?
Why does the same deli offer to carry food to two guys, but not to me and the girl?
Why can I write a new post on my iPhone, but I can’t respond to MrEd’s wise cracks about understanding inerrancy better than I do on it?
Why does the girl act tired at 6:30 but not at 11:30?
Why does coke taste so much better than pepsi?
Why do little old ladies like to give me the finger when I’m trying to help them?
Why are students surprised by their grades when they haven’t shown up enough for me to learn their names?
Why do I have so many books and so little time?
Why does the boy like to jump naked? (Okay, that one I kind of get . . .)
Why do smart dogs do stupid things?
Why do little girls and boys have to grow up?
Why does the phone only ring when I am in the john?
Why does my wife fall into the tiolet every time I leave the seat up? (Have you ever seen a sober male fall into the toilet?)
We had a contest once in college to see who could lay the biggest turd (literally). Why is that?
I once peed my entire name (first, middle, and last) into the snow and underlined it twice. I tell that story to anyone that will listen. Why?
Why do all my posts have something to do with my bowels?
Why?!!?!??!?!!
I have never seen an octogenarian give a grown man the finger before. Thanks for that, Russ. If I ever need cheering up, I just conjure up that image . . .
“Boy that was some good peein’” — Madonna