I agree, Doug. It sounds like Victorian times. I have heard that even the word “leg” was considered vulgar then, so that people would refer to the “limbs” of a piano. Don’t know if it’ true.
This is the sort of gift I’m sure I would just love to receive from my husband! :roll: I don’t know how the other ladies feel. 
BREAST STROKE
Run your cursor over the photo to see a real breast stroke
My mother has a smallpox vaccination scar just below her kneecap.
It was the practice when she was a child to put the vaccination on the outside of the upper arm, near the shoulder, but her mother wouldn’t allow it. She preferred that my mother’s vaccination be placed where no one would ever see the scar.
Best wishes,
Jerry
So Jack, is that a bit of a nod to Randy Newman or did you leave it so that she would recognize you?
Whu???
Oh, the hat…
of course, the hat!
My mother was offered the choice of having it done on my upper arm or on my bottom, so that it didn’t disfigure the arm when wearing sleeveless attire. She was horrified by the suggestion that it go on my bottom, claiming that it needed to go on my arm, where nobody would care to be looking later . . .
No Joan, some of us are wombats.
Wombat Wrote
Cynth wrote:
Is it true all men are dogs?
No Joan, some of us are wombats.
And some of us are whales.
David
I don’t know, Gilder, me boy, you appear to be dog-goned good at photoshopping. 
You thought I did that in Photoshop? That was a professional photo shoot with Nigel and Bruce. They were very enthusiastic and helpful. They have a lot of experience photographing men here in SF.
That’s a real beard… ?:boggle: 
Slan,
D. 
Now I guess a whale can be trained, but having a big enough pool of water for him to swim in could present a problem. A wombat looks like he is happy with straw on a floor, but can he be trained? Anyone seriously looking for a man knows that trainability is one of the most important considerations. 
Maybe that is why I am single. The last woman that I lived with liked to hand me little lists of things that she wanted me to do, like build a screened-in back porch, install a new kitchen floor (anyone could do it), put a bathroom with Jacuzi tub in the unfinished basement. I told her that what she really needed to do was to hire a handy man. Needless to say, we are no longer living together, and we both are happier.
I think that is a female wombat . . . her name seems to be “Abigail.”
Not that that is a bad thing, mind you, . . . merely pointing this out in the interest of scientific accuracy. She’s rather dainty . . . charming, in fact.
According to Jill Conner Browne - The Sweet Potato Queen - there are five men a woman must have in her life:
Now - sometimes a man can be more than one of the above. And, if you notice, all but one of the above functions could also be carried out by gay guys.
A handy man is a good solution to other problems too. My husband and I tried to work together on some fix-up jobs around the house and we just couldn’t see eye to eye on a darn thing. I am very fussy (I admit it) and he isn’t (he admits it). There were a number of very tense discussions. Early in our marriage I thought we should be able to work this problem out. Well, we did. We hire a handy man.
The perfect musician’s wife is:
well the perfect musician’s husband would be all the things Jill said, plus be a darn good roadie, too!!! 
My Handy Man
Whoever said a good man was hard to find,
Postively, absolutely sure was blind;
I found the best that ever was,
Here’s just some of the things he does:
He shakes my ashes, greases my griddle,
Churns my butter, strokes my fiddle;
My man is such a handy man!
He threads my needle, creams my wheat,
Heats my heater, chops my meat;
My man is such a handy man!
Don’t care if you believe or not,
He sure is good to have around;
Why, when my furnace gets too hot,
He’s right there to turn my damper down!
For everything he’s got a scheme;
You ought to see his new starter
that he uses on my machine;
My man is such a handy man!
He flaps my flapjacks, cleans off the table;
He feeds the horses in my stable.
My man is such a handy man!
He’s God’s gift!
Sometimes he’s up long before dawn,
Busy trimming the rough edges off my lawn;
Oooh, you can’t get away from it!
He’s such a handy man!
Never has a single thing to say,
While he’s working hard;
I wish that you could see the way
He handles my front yard!
My ice don’t get a chance to melt away,
He sees that I get that old fresh piece every day;
Lord, that man sure is such a handy man!
(sung by Ethel Waters and others; lyrics by ? Big Mama Thornton)