Rails

Me (holding a rake, dumping leaves into a bag)
My wife (pulls into driveway and rolls down car window):  Are you raking leaves?
Me:  No.  I'm building a pool. 
 
(My only regret is that I didn't think until afterward that I should have said, "Here's your sign.")

Those guys work for DC.

Those guys work for DC.

Those guys work for DC.

Those guys work for DC.

Robin: The Batmobile wont start. 
Batman: Check the battery. 
Robin: What’s a tery?

Deleted
 

I shouldn't have laughed at this--but I did.
 

Is it an Ent from Chernobyl?

* Cancer desperately searches for information about franchises *

Long preamble here.
 
The administrative unit in which I have the Associate Director title got moved out of one building last spring (that one was subsequently demolished and the spot is being built on now), and into another one.  The current location is a building that is older than the building that was demolished.
 
In this older building/new location, the only men's restroom is on the third floor (the only women's restroom is on the second floor).  Yes, classes are held in this building (which has three floors), and things get pretty congested during passing periods.
 
So ... unless it is pouring down rain, when my morning coffee demands liberation, rather than go upstairs, it is more convenient for me to duck outside and walk into another building right across the way, where there is a less-used men's room right near the entry on that entry level.  That other building houses the Business School.
 
I realized today that what I am doing is ... using the Business School as my outhouse.
 
After some consideration ... as a member of the College of Science & Engineering, I am oddly OK with that.

This one got a Liberal Arts degree huh?

It's a 5 minute walk from my house to the bar.
 
It's a 45 minute walk from the bar to my house.
 
The difference is staggering.

The teacher gave her fifth grade class an assignment: Get their parents to tell them a story with a moral at the end of it.
 
The next day, the kids came back and, one by one, began to tell their stories.
 
There were all the regular types of stuff: Spilled milk and pennies saved. But then the teacher realized, that only Janie was left.
 
"Janie, do you have a story to share?"
 
"Yes ma'am. My daddy told me a story about my Mommy. She was a Marine pilot in Desert Storm, and her plane got hit. She had to bail out over enemy territory, and all she had was a flask of whiskey, a pistol, and a survival knife.
She drank the whiskey on the way down so the bottle wouldn't break, and then she parachuted right into the middle of 20 Iraqi troops.  She shot 15 of them with the pistol, until she ran out of bullets, killed four more with the knife, till the blade broke, and then she killed the last Iraqi with her bare hands."
 
''Good Heavens," said the horrified teacher.  "What did your Daddy tell you was the moral to this horrible story?"
 
"Don't Screw with Mommy when she's been drinking."

tl; dr!   🙂