|"Great news, Mr. Bradley," the psychiatrist reported. "After eighteen months of therapy, I can pronounce you finally and completely cured of your kleptomania. You'll never be trapped by the desire to steal again."|
"Gee, that's great, Doc," the patient replied.
"And just to prove it, I want you to stop by the mall on the way home and walk the length of the stores. You'll see that you'll feel no temptation to shoplift whatsoever."
"Oh, Doctor, what can I do to thank you?"
"Well," suggested the psychiatrist, "if you DO have a relapse, I could use a new TV."
|A man walked into a therapists office looking very depressed. "Doc, you've got to help me. I can't go on like this."|
"What's the problem?" the doctor inquired.
"Well, I'm 35 years old and I still have no luck with the ladies. No matter how hard I try, I just seem to scare them away."
"My friend, this is not a serious problem. You just need to work on your self-esteem. Each morning, I want you to get up and run to the bathroom mirror. Tell yourself that you are a good person, a fun person and an attractive person. But say it with real conviction. Within a week you'll have women buzzing all around you."
The man seemed content with this advice and walked out of the office excited.
Three weeks later he returned with the same downtrodden expression on his face.
"Did my advice not work?" asked the doctor.
"It worked alright. For the past several weeks I've enjoyed some of the best moments in my life with the most fabulous looking women."
"So, what's your problem?"
"I don't have a problem," the man replied. "My wife does."
|The chairman of the board of our company called me into his office to tell me the good news. I was being promoted to Vice President of Corporate Research and Planning.|
Of course, I was excited, but that didn't stop me from asking for my new title to be changed to Vice President of Corporate Planning and Research.
"Why?" asked the chairman.
"Because," I said, "our organization uses abbreviated job titles, and I don't want be known as VP of CRAP."
|A little guy gets on a plane and sits next to the window. A few minutes later, a big, heavy, strong, mean-looking, hulking guy plops down in the seat next to him and immediately falls asleep.|
The little guy starts to feel a little airsick, but he's afraid to wake the big guy up to ask if he can move aside to let him go to the bathroom. He knows he can't climb over him, and so the little guy is sitting there, looking at the big guy, trying to decide what to do.
Suddenly, the plane hits an air pocket and an uncontrollable wave of nausea passes through the little guy. He can't hold it in any longer and hurls all over the big guy's chest.
About five minutes later the big guy wakes up, looks down, and sees the vomit all over him.
"So," says the little guy, "are you feeling any better now?"