I’m starting to sound like a broken record, aren’t I?
Does anyone out there under the age of 25 even know what that means… a broken record? No, it’s not like Barry Bonds’ homeruns or the 59-1/2 hotdogs that a guy named Joey Chestnut ate in 12 minutes. Seriously! Fifty-nine and a half!! Picture your shopping cart with 6 packs of hotdogs and 7 -1/2 bags of buns. Now picture eating it ALL. I think you better put a couple bottles of Tum*s in that cart, too.
I just can’t imagine how or why anyone would do that. I mean you would probably have no room left for cheesecake!
Okay, I wandered off the sidewalk again. I was talking about (and like) a broken record. Young ‘uns, you are just going to have to go Google*it!
As I drove to work this morning, I listened to the hopeless weather forecast on the radio… highs in the double sweaters with slight chance of isolated fun. For a moment I thought I was back in the ‘Otas where spring is aptly named because you can bounce between shorts and your winter woolies all the way into June. Summer does usually arrive but it never stayed long enough for me, so I moved to a friendlier climate… except I’m not feeling the love this year. And I’m thinking, I did not suffer through umptwenty snow storms for this! This winterish spring we are having. And to top it off, last night I dreamed that Alpha got a giganticus, ultra-befroggily tattoo on her back because she said she had nothing better to do. And she told me not to worry about it because she had it on good authority that swimsuit weather would NEVER COME AGAIN!
I think it’s time to move my cold a$$ south again... south like Costa*Rica, I'm thinking.
Does anyone out there under the age of 25 even know what that means… a broken record? No, it’s not like Barry Bonds’ homeruns or the 59-1/2 hotdogs that a guy named Joey Chestnut ate in 12 minutes. Seriously! Fifty-nine and a half!! Picture your shopping cart with 6 packs of hotdogs and 7 -1/2 bags of buns. Now picture eating it ALL. I think you better put a couple bottles of Tum*s in that cart, too.
I just can’t imagine how or why anyone would do that. I mean you would probably have no room left for cheesecake!
Okay, I wandered off the sidewalk again. I was talking about (and like) a broken record. Young ‘uns, you are just going to have to go Google*it!
As I drove to work this morning, I listened to the hopeless weather forecast on the radio… highs in the double sweaters with slight chance of isolated fun. For a moment I thought I was back in the ‘Otas where spring is aptly named because you can bounce between shorts and your winter woolies all the way into June. Summer does usually arrive but it never stayed long enough for me, so I moved to a friendlier climate… except I’m not feeling the love this year. And I’m thinking, I did not suffer through umptwenty snow storms for this! This winterish spring we are having. And to top it off, last night I dreamed that Alpha got a giganticus, ultra-befroggily tattoo on her back because she said she had nothing better to do. And she told me not to worry about it because she had it on good authority that swimsuit weather would NEVER COME AGAIN!
I think it’s time to move my cold a$$ south again... south like Costa*Rica, I'm thinking.
Yeah, like right about here:
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