During her physical examination, a doctor asked a retired woman about her physical activity level. The woman said she spent 3 days a week, every week, in the outdoors.
"Well, yesterday afternoon was typical; I took a five hour walk about 7 miles through some pretty rough terrain. I waded along the edge of a lake. I pushed my way through 2 miles of brambles. I got sand in my shoes and my eyes. I barely avoided stepping on a snake. I climbed several rocky hills. I went to the bathroom behind some big trees. I ran away from an irate mother bear and then ran away from one angry bull elk. The mental stress of it all left me shattered, so I drank a scotch and three glasses of wine."
Amazed by the story, the doctor said, "You must be one heck of an outdoor woman!"
"No," the woman replied, "I'm just a really bad golfer!"
A golfer was enduring the most miserable round. Every shot he tried seemed to end in disaster. He and his caddie had trailed in and out of woodland, deep rough, a lake and countless sand traps. On the seventeenth hole he was left with a shot of 180 yards to the green.
“Do you think I can get there with a five-iron?” he asked his caddie.
The caddie sighed, “Eventually.”
The golfer sliced a ball into a field of chickens, striking one of the hens and killing it instantly. He was understandably upset, and sought out the farmer.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “my terrible tee-shot hit one of your hens and killed it. Can I replace the hen?”
“I don’t know about that,” replied the farmer, mulling it over. “How many eggs a day do you lay?”
A father saw his son out in the backyard cleaning their homemade swing, a rubber tire hanging by a rope from a tree branch. The son was hosing it down, wiping it off, dusting out the inside.
The puzzled father went outside and said, “Son, I thought you were playing on the golf course with your friends this afternoon?”
"I was," replied the boy. "But the golf instructor said I needed to improve my swing."