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A: Because her man kicked her out.
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Not to cohabitate.
Not to use that language.
Not to go in the first place.
Not to invest in Telecom stocks.
Not to date sluts.
Not to eat with my hands.
Not to drink from the filthy bucket.
Not to train octopi.
Not to beat myself with slotted spoons.
Not to mix plaids and stripes.
Not to wiggle.
Not to beat eggs for an omelet during Uncle Freddie's funeral.
Not to save and collect my empty enemas.
Not to smell my feet.
Not to banish Captain Snuggles to the washing machine.
Not to lick the poison mushrooms.
Not to unlock the closet.
Not to wear her bras.
Not to "tickle the gator".
Not to play with the children under the stairs.
Not to juggle the plutonium.
Not to smoke her cigars.
Not to seethe.
Not to let the dogs out, because she'll know who did it.
Not to cry like a big, fat, hairy little girl.
Not to dance dirty.
Not to fiddle with my colostomy bag.
Not to get jiggy with it, or anything for that matter.
Not to tap on my brother's iron lung.
Not to take candy from strangers.
Not to let Dad out of the closet.
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He looks at her and says angrily, "Fix the light? Now? Does it look like I have a G.E. logo printed on my forehead? I don't think so."
"Well, then could you fix the fridge door? It won't close right."
To which he replied, "Fix the fridge door? Does it look like I have Westinghouse written on my forehead? I don't think so."
"Fine," she says, "Then could you at least fix the steps to the front door? They're about to break."
"I'm not a damn carpenter and I don't want to fix the steps," he says. "Does it look like I have Ace Hardware written on my forehead? I don't think so. I've had enough of you. I'm going to the bar!"
So he goes to the bar and drinks for a couple hours. He starts to feel guilty about how he treated his wife, and decides to go home and help out. As he walks into the house, he notices the steps are already fixed. As he enters the house, he sees the hall light is working. As he goes to get a beer, he notices the fridge door is fixed. "Honey, how'd this all get fixed?"
She said, "Well, when you left, I sat outside and cried. Just then a nice young man asked me what was wrong, and I told him. He offered to do all the repairs, and all I had to do was either sleep with him or bake him a cake."
He said, "So, what kind of cake did you bake him?"
She replied, "Hellooooo... Do you see Betty Crocker written on my forehead?"
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