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I'm worried that I'm losing my wife's love.

"I'm worried that I'm losing my wife's love," the husband told the counselor.

"Has she started to neglect you?"

"Not at all," the dejected man replied. "She meets me at the door with a cold drink and a warm kiss. My shirts are always ironed, she's a great cook, the house is always neat, and she keeps the kids out of my hair. She even lets me choose the television shows we watch and she never objects to kinky sex, or says she has a headache."

"So what's the problem?"

"Maybe I'm just being too sensitive," the husband ventured, but at night, when she thinks I'm sleeping, she puts her lips close to my ear and whispers, 'Die! Die, you son of a bitch!'"

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"I've heard some drivers saying, 'We're going too fast at Charlotte, we're going too fast here'. Get the hell home. If you're not a race car driver and not a racer, stay home. Don't come here and grumble about going too fast. Get out of the race car if you've got feathers on your legs or butt. Put a kerosene rag around your ankles so the ants won't climb up there and eat your candy ass." -- Dale Earnhardt

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