“Has your son decided what he wants to be when he grows up?” I asked my friend.
“He wants to be a garbageman,” he replied.
“That’s an unusual ambition to have at such a young age.”
“Not really. He thinks that garbagemen work only on Tuesdays.”
* * * * * * * *
A Scottish mother visits her son in his New York City apartment and asks, “How do you find the Americans, Donald?”
“Mother,” says Donald, “they’re such noisy people. One neighbor won’t stop banging his head against the wall, while the other screams and screams all night long.”
“Oh, Donald! How do you manage to put up with them?”
“What can I do? I just lie in bed quietly, playing my bagpipes.”
* * * * * * * *
A man went to his lawyer and told him, "My neighbor owes me $500 and he won’t pay up. What should I do?" "Do you have any proof he owes you the money?" asked the lawyer. "Nope," replied the man. "OK, then write him a letter asking him for the $5,000 he owed you," said the lawyer. "But it's only $500," replied the man. "Precisely. That’s what he will reply and then you’ll have your proof!"
* * * * * * * *
A: I have the perfect son.
B: Does he smoke?
A: No, he doesn’t.
B: Does he drink whiskey?
A: No, he doesn’t.
B: Does he ever come home late?
A: No, he doesn’t.
B: I guess you really do have the perfect son.  
How old is he?
A: He will be six months old next Wednesday.

Compiled from the internet