I like puns. I like fart jokes. I like potty humour. Not very classy of me, or maybe it is (in a “The Lady Is a Tramp” sort of way?), but there you have it.
So there was a joke I read somewhere when I was a kid that just struck me as the funniest thing in the world, at least until I got a little older and read “The Miller’s Tale,” and I wanted to share it with my family. I’d get 2/3′s or 3/4′ths of the way through the joke, and exploded into giggles and snorts and red-faced attempts to blurt my way past the punch line. Never did make it.
I hate to think of people growing older without ever hearing the story of the pithy grapefruit, so here it is. Enjoy. (The story, not the pithy grapefruit, because ugh.)
This couple had been married for a long dang time, and all the husband did was nitpick about everything. Finally the wife had had enough. She decided she was going to prepare him the absolute perfect breakfast. Fresh eggs, crisp bacon slices, sliced tomatoes, ruby grapefruit halves that she even took the time to section so they wouldn’t squirt him in his wretched eyes, coffee cake, doughnuts, muffins, waffles–everything that she could think of. He sat down to that magnificent feast, and started off with the cold grapefruit. He took one bite, made a face, shoved the plate away and said, “This grapefruit is pithy.” His wife said, “Well, dear, I hated to pith in it, but you know how you hate dry grapefruit.”
And yes, I giggled and snickered whilst typing it out.