- In a way, I'm sorry that Donald Trump didn't become president, because I would have pressed for a gig as a White House reporter so that I could write a scathing tell-all entitled, naturally, Hell Toupée.
- Oh, look. Snow. Now that all the eldritch spells protecting the city from winter during the big game ("Eximus phial! Weather ideal!") have worn off, it appears that winter is back. And Firefox's inline spell-checker does not know "eldritch".
- I know hindsight is 20/20 and all, but once those kids had actually started talking about the night that mommy rode in the trunk, who thought it was a good idea to give 'em a visit with daddy? "I'm ready to testify against the Mob, Mr. District Attorney!"
"Sure, sure! But first your uncle Vito said he'd like to take you for a drive. We'll take the deposition when you get back."
Wednesday, February 08, 2012
Miscellenia...
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8 comments:
I wonder if those weather prayers were used improperly last year. We hosted the big game at Jerry World and were punished by four days of ice/snow that just about paralyzed the DFW metroplex.
Tam. I know. When I read that the first thing I thought was "And you idiots let him see the kids again?".
Now I needed that laugh this early in the morning...I figured a Trump regime would likely result in tell all books a few years after being out.
Not that "the Donald" needs any more ego, he already needs two door widths to exit a building.
Alas, this is fairly typical of the state of Washington's Department of Social and Health Services' record when it comes to getting children out of such situations is pretty much.
Maybe if Rob McKenna wins the gubernatorial race this year...
Drang: Those folks are hyper-cautious after the Wenatchee WA pedo-witchhunt scandal.
.Gov is always swinging between burn the church down, and hide under the bed and do nothing.
But Tam, it was a supervised visit. What could go wrong?
"In a way, I'm sorry that Donald Trump didn't become president, because I would have pressed for a gig as a White House reporter so that I could write a scathing tell-all entitled, naturally, Hell Toupée."
God I wish I had written that.
Oh Great! Thanks! You do realise how hard life is for we 'follicly challenged' (it's that I have extra testosterone and it shows I'm really macho, honest!) don't you? Choices, choices. Do you go comb-over? Shave it and (with my pasty complexion) end up looking like a walking cue-ball? Or go the (dead hamster) toupee route?
How can you pick on this poor, er super rich man? At least it isn't 'dreads' (although I think it would have suited him and maybe given him a bit more of the efnic vote).
You ladies just don't realise the pressure we men are under to appear 'desirable' today. We have to not-shave (to get that two o'clock shadow just right), pick the right clothes (apparently choosing the ones that don't stick when thrown against the wall doesn't work anymore), and don't get me started on memorising all those witty one-liners. All that so we can face the long walk across the dance floor (I still remember my first time, I plucked up courage, strolled nonchalantly across, asked for a dance.. only to be turned down blank and face the long humiliating walk back with the lady and her friends laughing at me all the way, the shame! I still haven't forgiven my mother for that!).
See, you ladies have it easy! So be kind to us 'mere' men ;-)
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