Where’s My Dolly
Overheard from a 30-something man. Of course I use the term "man" loosely.
"I love Cabbage Patch Dolls. I think they are a very creative toy."
First of all, kudos to the dude who feels comfortable to admit something like this in public.
Second, a creative toy? It's a doll. A doll with a birth certificate, grant you, but a doll nonetheless. All the birth certificate does is name the doll for you, thus robbing you of any creativity you could have used by naming the doll yourself.
Love in an Elevator
Okay, if you stand right in front of the elevator doors as you are waiting for the elevator, you are a dillhole. If you are so close to the door, that your big, fat gut starts to spill into the elevator as soon as the door starts to open, you are a dillhole. If you shove your way into the elevator, bowling over the people who are trying to exit and forcing them to step around your big, fat gut to get out , you are a dillhole.
To the dude in the ugly Hawaiian shirt who is guilty of all the above: You are a big, fat, freaking dillhole.
Buffet
Joey: Where's the waitress? I'm starving.
Chandler: It's a buffet, man
Joey: Oh, here's where I win my money back.
My kids like a local buffet, so we hit it up every month or so. While there a couple of nights ago, I was getting my food and I saw one of the staff members had brought a man to the food and was motioning with her arm as if to say here it is.
The man looked at her funny and said, "Oh, you get it yourself?"
What did he think a buffet was?
Mommy’s Mammary Malt
That could be a new flavor of Ben & Jerry's if PETA has their way. In their latest look-at-me stunt, PETA has sent a letter to Ben and Jerry saying they should replace the cow milk used in Ben and Jerry's ice cream with human milk.
Two questions:
How can you possibly squeeze enough boobies to make all that ice cream? And where do I apply for that position?
Mrs. Moses, Mao, and the Mormons
I have been enjoying the Olympics, especially watching Michael Phelps and his record breaking gold heist. I didn't, however, watch the Opening Ceremonies. I didn't really care to see a bunch of dorks in white suits running around forming various images like a marching band without the band. Also, not too heart broken about missing the edited fireworks. What kind of a sorry country edits fireworks for TV so the the rest of the world thinks they were better than they were? A pinko Commie country, that's what kind.
On the night of the Opening Ceremonies, we were out at the Olive Garden, thanks to a generous contribution from the 'Rents. While waiting for our table a woman as old as Moses shuffled out, talking to her grandchild about how the only thing she likes about the Olympics are the Opening Exercises. She coudn't give a rat's about the thrilling competition, the triumph of the human spirit, or countries coming together in the name of sports.
I personally don't buy that crap, but that's what the Olympics are selling. I wasn't feeling love for my fellow man when Phelps and Company punked France after all their trash talking. I just jumped up and down yelling at France (yes, the entire country) to stick that in their pipe and smoke it. Of course, when it comes to France, that's more love than any American is usually willing to give, so hey, way to go Olympics.
Back to Mrs. Moses, she was really wanting to get home so she wouldn't miss any of the festivities, and since it looked like it was going to take her half an hour just to get to her car, she had reason to be worried.
Now, what is my point? I am sure my LDS readers have spotted it. For those of you outside the Zion Curtain, at the beginning of Sunday School each week, all the primary kids meet together for a while before breaking off to their individual classes. This time is referred to as Opening Exercises. Mrs. Moses wanted to hurry home so she wouldn't miss the Olympic Opening Exercises.
Now, having not watched, can anyone tell me who said the prayer? Did they sing Jesus Wants Me For a Sunbeam? Or the Chinese version Mao Wants Me For a Volunteer? Just asking.
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