How To Be Politically Correct With Women
How to be Politically Correct with Women

She is not a BLEACHED BLONDE - She is PEROXIDE DEPENDENT.

She is not a BAD COOK - She is MICROWAVE COMPATIBLE.

She does not wear TOO MUCH JEWELRY - She is METALLICALLY OVERBURDENED.

She is not CONCEITED - She is INTIMATELY AWARE OF HER BEST QUALITIES.

She does not want to be MARRIED - She wants to lock you in DOMESTIC INCARCERATION.

She does not GAIN WEIGHT - She is a METABOLIC UNDERACHIEVER.

She is not DUMB - She is a DETOUR OFF THE INFORMATION SUPERHIGHWAY.

She is not TOO SKINNY - She is SKELETALLY PROMINENT.

She does not HAVE A MUSTACHE - She is IN TOUCH WITH HER MASCULINE SIDE.

She does not HATE TELEVISED SPORTS - She is ATHLETICALLY IGNORANT.

She does not WEAR TOO MUCH PERFUME - She commits FRAGRANCE ABUSE.

She does not GO SHOPPING - She is MALL FLUENT.

She is not an AIR HEAD - She is REALITY

A final diagnosis
Thought I'd let my doctor check me,
'Cause I didn't feel quite right. . .
All those aches and pains annoyed me
And I couldn't sleep at night.

He could find no real disorder
But he wouldn't let it rest.
What with Medicare and Blue Cross,
We would do a couple tests.

To the hospital he sent me
Though I didn't feel that bad.
He arranged for them to give me
Every test that could be had.

I was fluoroscoped and cystoscoped,
My aging frame displayed.
Stripped, on an ice cold table,
While my gizzards were x-rayed.

I was checked for worms and parasites,
For fungus and the crud,
While they pierced me with long needles
Taking samples of my blood.

Doctors came to check me over,
Probed and pushed and poked around,
And to make sure I was living
They then wired me for sound.

They have finally concluded,
Their results have filled a page.
What I have will someday kill me;
My affliction is old age.