J-Fed Joke Of The Day

J-Fed: Knock, knock.

Kiki: Who’s there?

J-Fed: Ida

Kiki: Ida who?

J-Fed: I dunno the password to my own bank account. Do you?

Ok, so here’s how it really went down. I was sitting at the dance studio, trying to concentrate on daughter flapping around the room clumsily. She attended dance four days a week by choice. I still wasn’t exactly sure why since half the time she was staring into space or marching to the beat of her own drum – not the one playing on the sound system.

As I tried to focus on her moves, I was sadly blinded by the glare of a half-dozen stunning engagement rings trying to taunt me. Looking down at my hand I felt oddly naked… until I remembered why I was no longer wearing my wedding ring. That feat took all of two minutes when my phone rang and I discovered J-Fed on the other line.

“Hello???” he shouted frantically.

I held the phone away from my ear. He was shouting so loud that I think they heard his booming voice a few counties over. I couldn’t imagine what he possibly wanted. However, it could have been a menagerie of things since I was no longer taking his calls throughout the day. I only answered this one out of sheer curiosity. And boy was I glad I did.

“What’s up?” I said curtly. No need to let him know that whatever gibberish came out of his mouth I’d likely find amusing at his expense. Needless to say, I was spot on with my prediction.

“What’s the password to my bank account?” he said snippily.

Was this a trick question? Was he going to threaten to slap a restraining order on me if I answered correctly? I weighed my options here. Damned if I did. Damned if I didn’t. If I didn’t hand over the password, he’d surely get pissy and hang up on me, which was fine. And if I did reach into my cold black heart and tell him the password, he’d accuse me of spying or some other ridiculous act of impropriety.