“My Freddie,” said Margaret, “Everyone should be so lucky to have a son like my Freddie. Once a week he brings me a huge bouquet of flowers, he’s constantly bringing me out to restaurants to eat, if I so much as hint that I want something the next morning it’s on my doorstep.”

“That’s very nice about your Freddie”, says Gertrude. “But with all due respect, when I think about the way my Sammy takes care of me, it just can’t compare. Every morning as soon as I wake up he greets me with bacon and freshly brewed coffee. Every lunch he comes over and cooks me a gourmet lunch, and every supper he brings me to his house for supper, he truly treats me like a queen.”

“WELL!” Says Barbara “I don’t want to make any of you feel bad or anything, but wait until you hear about my Harry, twice a week he pays someone $200 an hour just so he can lie on their couch and talk to them, and who do you think he speaks about at those prices? Asks Barbara with a big excited double chin smile, “I’ll tell you who he speaks about! ALL HE SPEAKS ABOUT IS ME!”

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“Well” said the psychologist slowly, “to be perfectly honest with you I don’t think you ever had an inferiority complex. After much thought I have come to a conclusion. I think you really are inferior!”

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So it was no surprise that one day when she ran out of gas, the only container she could find to put the gas into was a bedpan. Sister Mary happily walked two blocks to the closest gas station filled up the bedpan with gas and headed back to her car.

Luck would have it that as Sister Mary started tipping the gas into the fuel tank, the traffic light turned red and she had quite a large audience witnessing the spectacle.

Just when she finished pouring in the last drops of gas a fellow opened up his window and hollered, “I swear! If that car starts I’m becoming a religious man!”

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