Miami Beach

Miami Bleach

Miami Beach 

My roommate Michael once attended a medical conference in Miami Beach and happened to overhear a conversation on the street that offers an insight into Jewish interpersonal relationships.

Two little old Jewish ladies passed each other on the street. One looked at the other, calling out in a startled voice:

  • Myrtle, Myrtle. Is that you? I haven’t seen you in so long I almost didn’t recognize you. In fact, now that I’m really looking, I can see that you don’t even look like yourself. In fact, you look terrible. You lost weight, your color is gray. You’re pale. And your hair never looked like that before. It used to be so radiant. It doesn’t even look like the normal hair that I remember. What happened? What happened to you and your lovely radiant curly red hair? Now it’s stringy and blond.
  • Oh, Sylvia. It’s so nice to see you, again too. And yes, I’ve had a terrible time. I got cancer and had chemotherapy. I nearly died. In fact, I have no blood cells and all my hair fell out too, so I had to go get a wig.
  • Myrtle. I’m so sorry to hear about that and I’m certainly glad you survived the cancer. So as far as your hair is concerned, don’t worry. Your hair looks so natural; no one will ever notice the difference.
Advertisements

Jewish Sex

Jewish Sex 

A  widowed Jewish lady living in Miami who was about eighty years old had the habit of going down to the beach every day with a blanket, an umbrella and a cooler full of ice cold drinks. She was dressed in an old-fashioned one-piece bathing suit

One day she spotted a skinny little old Jewish man, dressed only in a small  pair of black swim trunks, walking along the shoreline. She called him over to her blanket and then proceeded to attempt small talk with a person who turned out to be a man of very few words.

  • Nice day, yes?
  • Sure, yeah. Nice day.
  • Nice blue sky, yes?
  • Yeah, yeah. Nice and blue.
  • Nice waves too, yes?
  • Beautiful water. Gorgeous waves. Yeah, yeah.

Then she opened the cooler and said:

  • Want a cool drink?
  • Yeah sure. Nice and cold.

Nudging him closer under the umbrella she said:

  • Nice cool shade, yes?
  • Yeah, yeah. Nice shade and a nice cool drink.

Just then two small kittens walked by, and the woman having become increasingly frustrated by his terse inarticulations along with trying to prompt more than only single word responses, pointed to them, and said:

  • Pussy cats, yes?

With that the little man jumped up, ripped off the woman’s bathing suit, threw off his own trunks and slam-bang fucked her silly into the hot sand. After he was done, the startled woman, sat up, dusted the sand off her bottom, turned to the man and said:

  • My god. I haven’t had such good sex like that since my poor husband died twenty years ago; and even then, it was nowhere near as good as this. But let me ask you something. How in the world did you know I needed that?
  • My dear lady. How in the world did you know my name was Katz?