Note: sometimes I come up with terrible jokes, the kind that make you groan. It’s getting worse as I get older, though my allergy to cats is getting better as I get older. I don’t know what to make of this. Eventually my sense of humor will deteriorate to the point where the only kinds of jokes I can make are truly embarrassing and at that point I’ll know it’s time to have kids.
Anyway, to the joke, and I use the word “joke” loosely:
Woman: It’s an occasional table.
Man: Well, what else is it? (maybe this should be: What’s it when it’s not a table?)
Or maybe it should be “What’s an occasional table when it’s not a table?”
But then I don’t know what the answer is.