…TAT-tat-tat-TAT-TAT-tat-tat-TAT…
[Breaking News: from another strangely irrelevant moment in our news room…]
Editor: “It says here that this year’s Holistic and Psychic Fair is going to be…”
Me: WAIT!! Don’t tell me….
[An anticipatory silence in the newsroom]
Me: “… Sorry — I got nothin'”
Editor: “Just for that, it’s your assignment now.”
Me: “Somehow, I knew that.”
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Family Matters
Saving The World From Stupidity...One Blog At A Time
There is no common truth, but there are facts.
I think you need to be touching something from the event in order for it to work.
That makes sense. Sort of like finding my other sock.
I’m not sure if we’re old enough to know what you will be touching!!
I’m flattered that you’d consider whatever I’m touching would need to be covered with a sock 😉
Haha – I may have some very odd dreams tonight – more wine!!!!
Lol! Let me know if you find my other tube sock!
Lmao!! I’m getting to know you too well !!
Perfection!
I didn’t see that one coming. * sigh * More evidence of my psychic shortcomings…
Your psychic powers should be twitching when replying to hacken’s comments — she is a friend of mine.
I knew that.
She has that aroma.
My psychic olfactory senses are highly developed. It’s the only highly-developed gift I have.
You must be fun at parties.
Everyone loves my Nostrildamas predictions.
Ah, yes, the toothless sage.
Come forward and I will sniff out your future. I promise to blow my nose between readings.
Ooops, tried to share my favorite fart sketch with you.
Thanks for clearing that up. The fart, I mean.
I predict the future using my boogers.
I see, like taro cards. But who picks?
I blow my nose on the men’s room wall and the message magically appears. I’m a progsnotsticator.
It must run in the family. Your nose, I mean.
Ray Stevens wrote a song about my family.
Your ability pull out songs is impressive and frightening. I don’t know where you pull them out of.
Monkeys usually accompany the songs.
(you have to admit that ‘Ned Nostril’ is so appropriate!!)
LOL! Yes, that was pretty damned awesome 🙂
Errrrg… he wrote it about YOU.
And here I was thinking you were going to do “Get Down, Booger-ooger-ooger…” Well played!
Oh great, ‘Boogie Wonderland’ will never be the same to me now. You have earned a hard, crusty Uncle Henry!!
Lol! As long as there isn’t a hair in it 😉
Why am I turned on right now?
I ask myself that every day.
I think I’m getting you a Mr. Microphone for Christmas.
Good gift idea. Then I can walk around town polling people to see if and when they are turned on.
Plus, it will get your hand out of your pants while asking, “Hey, is this thing on?”
Maybe. Either that or I will just unzip.
True, but it will still leave the question…
Where’s the beef?
Is THAT the other white meat?
Pork. It’s not just for breakfast any more.
I think I found a hair in mine.
Is that a quote from the adult version of Alice In Wonderland?
That’s a different kind of rabbit hole…
There are so many possible directions I could take with that lead.
That’s what I’ve heard…
And the doors get smaller….
I ask myself that very Tuesday.
$10 bucks the resounding answer Steve gets to his question is a VERY consistent “NO.”
I am NOT taking that bet.
Wait, is he at a straight of gay bar…?
Ironically, $10 is what Sandy usually charges … to share her Mrs. Microphone.
Sounds reasonable. I mean, that she’s the kind of person who shares.
Sandy even shares her little friends.
That reminds me, I need to get my booster shots.
Fumigation should follow.
Hey, at least you are both entertaining the idea of getting jiggy with me. Commence fumigation.
Wait. Stand still while I use the weedwhacker on you.
Who’s this Jiggy person and who invited him?
I thought you liked that? Or was that only on my back?
That’s why northern girls are so warm.
Ned. Steve and I have slept together. Even Steve can’t publicly deny it. My husband knows. I even think other people saw us.
I must clarify — Sandy considers sharing the same urinal as “sleeping together”.
I saw the YouTube — 23 hits. Nice! Who cares if they were all from Steve?
Actually, I had my own urinal. But think again.
Sandy just admitted that she thinks with her butt.
Ned is going to be sorry he met us.
So let me get this straight, both of you crapped in a urinal together. I can’t sleep with either of you. In fact, I may never sleep again…
There may even be photographic proof, which may accomplish the seemingly impossible task of scarring you even more.
Of course, I did forget that we slept together, or at least, Sandy slept and I wrote drew a smiley face across her butt cheeks in permanent marker.
What did you use for a smile… wait… never mind.
That was the nose. It’s the beard you should wonder about.
I know this is a little off subject, but it reminded me; I had a Furby once.
For some reason, it just seemed important to mention…
It’s important to mention, if only to highlight your fascination with battery operated objects.
Very true. In fact, I never knew where the batteries on my Furby were supposed to go. Thanks to you and Sandy, I think I know where to look now.
It’s ironic you say that. Sandy has a talking Furby.
As long as the batteries are good.
A) We did not crap in a urinal together. He fauxpeed and I fauxpood and my mom took the picture.
B) You could totally sleep with me. Look outside your window.
C) My furby only burps.
A) Your Mom sounds very understanding
B) My office window has an air conditioner stuck in it, so I can’t see you but you could talk to me and sound like Darth Vader
C) I’ve heard it called a “barking spider” but never a burping Furby.
My Furby cannot burp as I have just shat my Tweeties.
Steve is going to be very jealous 😉
From laughing!!!!!!!!!!!!! AGH
Out of kindness and courtesy I will post a blog so you two can blow up my comment sextion, and possibly improve my Klout score.
I’m sorry, but the only things I got out of that was “blow” and “score.”
Forget about Steve. Let’s be best friends.
Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh OK.
I’m looking at the time these comments were posted. All I can say is BEER!!!
*burrrrrp*
How did you get Sandy’s furby?
Apparently, it like beer.
I have been to a psychic fair. I sat down and got a reading. He said a man was going to come into my life who I was going to really like, but I was going to feel like putting a boot up his a**. Hmmm. . .that’s every boyfriend I’ve ever had, how did he know???
He must’ve drawn the card with the multiple wieners on it.
I am sitting here at my desk laughing my a** off on that one Ned!! Yes, it was kind of like the brains/trains joke. . . . when I said I wanted winners, he thought I said wieners. . . .story of my life!!
You know what they say: “When life gives you wieners, uh… make them find their own buns?”
Or something like that 😉
No, it’s “Get the condiments!!” 😉
Hahahaha! Excellent 😉 Or was that condoments?
It wasn’t jelly (I’m really bored today).
Prude.
Only when I am constipated.
I think you meant “prod.”
Roto Rooter has been called in on occasion.
I have a fear of snakes, at least if they belong to a plumber.
Then you probably don’t want the number for Ben Dover Plumbing.
Or Hidden Valley.
Or Flushing Fjords, not to be confused with Poopchute Plumbing.
Or Abercrombe & Fitch, since they are obviously familiar with working closely with A-holes.
lol
I’ve spent so much of my life digging myself out of shit I created, it makes it difficult for me to yell at the dog when I step in his.
Awesome.
That’s just the way we roll here. At least until we run into something.
Ha! It must be so fun being you. Or being the people around you. . . (I’m going to beat you to the punch on this one.) until you pass gas.
It’s rare for anyone to beat me to the punch on passing gas. Well played 😉
Pfff.
(That was a sound effect I was making with my MOUTH, by the way!)
uh… sure. yeah…