Posts Tagged ‘Cheese’
- Most popular machine at health clubs: The time machine. It takes years off your waist.
- A wage slave living from Pay Day Loan to Pay Day Loan says they have, “Great interest in him.”
- Prosthesis Magazine article: Amputee Plans Afoot
- Uncreative designer is said to be “Staid of the Art”
- Harvard History Department wants to “Have archaic and eat it too”
- That restaurant is a tough place. The coat check girl’s name is Bruno.
- Unruly lawn brought to Madame Wong’s Tips & Toes for tidying. It’s now a beautifully manicured lawn.
- Pamplona, Spain is now sponsoring the Running of the Mascara. It’s so sad.
- He’s so semantically aware, he’s been cut by sharp cheddar, rapier wits and pointed arguments
- Fear of driving through a passageway with coworkers is called Carpool Tunnel Syndrome
- Overheard at a bowlers convention, “Yeah, I’m getting my ball drilled Tuesday.” “Interesting, that’s the same day I’m getting mine buffed.”
- Have you seen any fascists rolling 5 dice? No. I did not see a Nazi playing Yahtzee.
- My favorite fetishistic fantasization is polysyllabic alliteration
- Mature landscaping growing weary of immature landscaping in nearby development: “Gees, it’s out all night and won’t leaf us alone. Especially that Fraxinus. It’s such a pain in the ash. Oh well, life’s a birch.”
- Lament of the amnesiac whose PC won’t load any more software: “Now I remember. I forgot to buy memory.”
- I bet my Personal Injury attorney can beat up your Personal Injury attorney
Sculptress Gretel Muffet lived in an artists loft in the NoHo section of New York City; an area so named for its complete lack of prostitution. An ardent soul possessing more self-confidence than she really needed, Gretel usually looked to her grandfather Peter Muffet for guidance. Peter was one of those proud old WWII veterans who refused to discuss his war time experiences even though he merely served stateside as a baker. With this kind of role model it’s easy to account for her occasional absurdity. She was crazy about the old coot and whenever anyone asked why she revered her grandfather she’d sigh, “Oh for the love of Pete.”
Gretel was the first to admit she wasn’t very tightly wrapped. After all, she believed restrooms should be segregated not by gender, but by the concavity of one’s belly button. In her world all restroom doors would be marked either Innie or Outie. “Compliance,” Gretel averred, “would be verified with electronic navel readers so you’re either in or you’re out.” Her friends quietly agreed with her while smugly thinking, “Doesn’t this whack job know that nature has already predetermined who’s an Innie and who’s an Outie?”