It's not my ass that's mashedHis wife Susan just threw her hands up and walked away. "He's so impulsive," she sighed.
Bob and Susan were walking past the playground when they spotted the swings. Bob couldn't remember the last time he was on a swing. "Oh, what the hey," he thought, climbing through the hole in the fence. As he approached the apparatus he was jolted by the realization that the only open swing was for toddlers, and hung about six inches off the ground. The big kid swings had a rough-looking Girl Scout troop milling around that made him nervous, but a dad can never show fear, especially a bleached blond one, so he pushed off. As he struggled to build up some speed he heard giggles and movement behind him. This is it, he had time to think before dissolving into panic. Mugged on the baby swing! By Girl Scouts! And then he fainted.
The Girl Scouts were crushed. "We just wanted to give him a push," said one. "We thought he was a lot older with all that white hair. What's up with that? "