(Sharon/Kyle - make sure you read the last one. 
)
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Bet it sucks to be a young flying squirrel. I mean, you'd get your hopes up for a long time, just to find out that all you can really do is glide. If there really is a pole at the North Pole, I bet there's some dead explorer guy with his tongue stuck to it.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: Don't repeat yourself -- it's repetitious and redundant.
I bet strip mining is a lot like strip poker, only the last thing you take off is that helmet with the light on it.
The worst part about being Medusa wouldn't be turning people to stone on sight, but rather the unavoidable bad hair days when one of your snakes is digesting a rat.
To set the mood, I cranked up OutKast's "I Love the Way You Move" and sat back to enjoy the show -- though at that point the guys from Allied Van Lines took noticeably less care with my boxes.
I think it would be cool if Yosemite Sam were a crew member on "Star Trek." That way, he could have his phaser set to "fricassee."
For six months I've been on this meat-based Atkins diet, and although I'm losing weight, it's beginning to get difficult to stick to the diet. Before too long, I'll have to move on to another town to find more Atkinses.
Drugs are not the answer. Unless the question is: "What's not the answer?"
Whatever you do, when you stop by the auto-wrecking yard, don't park your small car in a spot marked "compact."
I have some pictures of Britney Spears dancing naked. Except she's not naked -- she's wearing a grubby bathrobe. And she's not dancing -- she's eating oatmeal. And she's not Britney Spears -- she's me.
Sometimes, when I'm sure people can only see the back of my head, I enjoy sneaking in a quick catnap at work. They never last too long, though, because invariably someone rings the bell telling me they want to get off my bus.
I cried because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet. So I beat the living snot out of him because I'm lack-toes intolerant.
)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bet it sucks to be a young flying squirrel. I mean, you'd get your hopes up for a long time, just to find out that all you can really do is glide. If there really is a pole at the North Pole, I bet there's some dead explorer guy with his tongue stuck to it.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: Don't repeat yourself -- it's repetitious and redundant.
I bet strip mining is a lot like strip poker, only the last thing you take off is that helmet with the light on it.
The worst part about being Medusa wouldn't be turning people to stone on sight, but rather the unavoidable bad hair days when one of your snakes is digesting a rat.
To set the mood, I cranked up OutKast's "I Love the Way You Move" and sat back to enjoy the show -- though at that point the guys from Allied Van Lines took noticeably less care with my boxes.
I think it would be cool if Yosemite Sam were a crew member on "Star Trek." That way, he could have his phaser set to "fricassee."
For six months I've been on this meat-based Atkins diet, and although I'm losing weight, it's beginning to get difficult to stick to the diet. Before too long, I'll have to move on to another town to find more Atkinses.
Drugs are not the answer. Unless the question is: "What's not the answer?"
Whatever you do, when you stop by the auto-wrecking yard, don't park your small car in a spot marked "compact."
I have some pictures of Britney Spears dancing naked. Except she's not naked -- she's wearing a grubby bathrobe. And she's not dancing -- she's eating oatmeal. And she's not Britney Spears -- she's me.
Sometimes, when I'm sure people can only see the back of my head, I enjoy sneaking in a quick catnap at work. They never last too long, though, because invariably someone rings the bell telling me they want to get off my bus.
I cried because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet. So I beat the living snot out of him because I'm lack-toes intolerant.
