Bitches to the End!
The doctor, after an examination, sighed and said, ‘I’ve got some bad news. You have cancer, and you’d best put your affairs in order.’
‘Well, daughter, we women celebrate when things are good, and we celebrate when things don’t go so well. In this case, things aren’t well. I have cancer. So, let’s head to the club and have a martini.’
After 3 or 4 martinis, the two were feeling a little less somber. There were some laughs and more martinis.
They were eventually approached by some of the womans’ old friends, who were curious as to what the two were celebrating. The woman told her friends they were drinking to her impending end, ‘I’ve been diagnosed with AIDS.’
The friends were aghast, gave the woman their condolences and beat a hasty retreat.
After the friends left, the womans’ daughter leaned over and whispered, ‘Momma, I thought you said you were dying of cancer, and you just told your friends you were dying of AIDS! Why did you do that?’
‘Because I don’t want any of those bitches sleeping with your father after I’m gone.’
And THAT, my friends, is what is called, ‘Putting Your Affairs In Order.’
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