Sometimes I leave comments on other people's sites that I think bear repeating out of context. I present to you three comments I've left in the past few days that were, of course, pertinent to the posts to which they were appended but which I think can stand on their own two feet:
- I purposely linger in the restroom when I sense that someone's holding out and waiting for me to leave. I love knowing that her bladder is ready to burst and three gallons of pee are about ready to stream from her eyes like tears.
- Help me. I feel faint. Two of my least favorite words in the entire English language in one post. And not just in one post but juxtaposed into a phrase that makes me retch. "Vaginal discharge".
Thank god you didn't include my runner-up least favorite two-word phrase of all time: "Sensible shoes".
We'd be talkin' cardiac arrest, if so.
I have to lie down.
- Tofu, of course! It comes in its own box.
(Yes, that sounds salacious.)
Note: If by "bears repeating" you thought I meant this, you are definitely in the wrong place.
Ouch! On that graphic link.
I love your comments....though you rarely leave them for me. However, your emails are great. You always leave me giggling....
Offered by: Joan on November 26, 2002 6:58 PMIf any comment were to sound salacious, it's Rachel's.
Offered by: leo on November 26, 2002 12:21 PMif it weren't for my horse, i wouldn't have spent that year in college.
Offered by: rachel on November 26, 2002 11:02 AMSo glad to have been the recipient of the "it comes in its own box" comment.
Offered by: Karen on November 26, 2002 10:39 AMI wish to vote but I wish to cast my ballot intelligently and I must consider my options carefully and impartially.
Having spent the last years of my youth in Ann Arbor, Michigan—then affectionately known as the Dope Capital of the Midwest—I feel that, although I have not succumbed to its allure in quite some time, I have a moral obligation to vote for the weed whose primary evil is its own illicitly and whose effect I have always found utterly charming.
Also, considering myself to be a man of impeccable taste; a man who prefers the odor of a paste made of rotten sardines, fecal matter and turpentine; a man who would rather drink his own vomit than to catch a whiff of Jean Naté, I have to be absolutely certain not to let my prejudice for the product get in the way of assessing its ability to soothe a skin tortured by summer’s sweltering heat and oppressive humidity.
After long and careful consideration, I offer you my sage advice: Fire up the bong! Party time!
Pray make way. I shall now enter the voting booth.
Offered by: Mad Genius on November 26, 2002 9:49 AMmake that "down" not "downing"... some strange person came in here and attacked me as I was posting. They obivously have no clue as to English grammar...
Offered by: chari on November 26, 2002 9:19 AMI still have the mental image of pee-tears streaming downing some poor woman's face while she's sitting on a cold public toity waiting for you to leave. It's chilling... and oddly comforting.
Offered by: chari on November 26, 2002 9:17 AMI'm in the wrong place. Who'd have thunk it?
Offered by: Pete on November 26, 2002 8:58 AM
