I ain't talkin no big deals
I ain't made no plans myself
I ain't talkin no high heels
Maybe we could walkin around, all day long,
Walkin around, all day long
Hurt so good
Come on baby make it hurt so good
Sometimes love don't feel like it should
You make it hurt so good
(John Cougar Mellencamp, "Hurts So Good")
I'm over my masochistic whining and moaning bender of the past week or so -- which was sadistic of me to subject you all to, I know. I guess that kind of-sort of-loosely means that I know a little S&M now. I wonder how the job market is for dominatrixes? Aren't they the ones who get to have all the love slaves? Yeah, that's a weird thought. Tell me about it. It's been a weird and difficult week. I'm glad it's over. I hope next week runs much smoother.
If it's Friday, I'm guessing it must be Joke Day. I know, we completely missed Dress-Up Day yesterday. We'll do it next week -- if I can remember. I, too, have Can'tRememberShit. I completely forgot, for example, that it was my day to post on Verbicidal Tendencies and had to hustle this morning to get something ready. Twice recently, I thought it was my day when it wasn't. It's a wonder poor Hale McKay hasn't tried to get me a commitment hearing. Perhaps we could throw a telethon to try and find a cure, because I know I'm not the only one afflicted with this sorry sickness.
Jolie blonde, regardez donc quoi t'as fait,
Tu m'as quitte pour t'en aller,
Pour T'en aller avec un autre, oui, que moi,
Quel espoir et quel avenir, mais, moi, je vais avoir?
(Pretty blonde, look at what you've done,
You left me to go away,
To go away with another, yes, than me,
What hope and what future am I going to have?)
("Jole Blon," often referred to as the Cajun national anthem)
A blonde heard that milk baths would make her beautiful.
She left a note for her milkman to leave 25 gallons of milk.
When the milkman read the note, he felt there must be a mistake. He thought she probably meant 2.5 gallons. So he knocked on the door to clarify the point.
The blonde came to the door and the milkman said, "I found your note asking me to leave 25 gallons of milk. Did you mean 2.5 gallons?"
The blonde said, "I want 25 gallons. I'm going to fill my bathtub up with milk and take a milk bath so I can look young and beautiful again."
The milkman asked, "Do you want it pasteurized?"
The blonde said, "No, just up to my boobs. I can splash it on my eyes."
Chlotilde often made ole Boudreaux's life miserable wit her constant nagging and complaining. The only real peace he ever got was when he was out in the field plowing. One day while he was out in the field, Chlotilde brought his lunch to him. She stayed while he ate quietly, but berated him with a continuous stream of nagging and complaining.
Suddenly Boudreaux's old mule kicked up his back legs, stuck Chlotilde in the head, and killed her.
At the wake, Boudreaux's priest, Father Jules, noticed comething strange. When the women offered their sympathy to Boudreaux he would nod his head up and down, but when the men came up and spoke quietly to him, he would shake his head from side to side.
When the wake was over and all the mourners had left, Father Jules approached Boudreaux and asked, "Why was it that you nodded your head up and down to all the women and shook your head from side to side for all the men?"
"Well Fadda, it's like dis," replied Boudreaux, "Da wamens, dem, dey all see how nice Chlotilde look, hur, wit dat nice dress wit all da flowers on it and all. So me, ah agree wit dem by noddin' my hed up and down.
But da mens, dem, dey all axe, "Is dat mule faw sale?" and ad jis shake my hed 'no'."
I arrested today's miscreants. Y'all punish 'em.
I see by my lunar calendar that it's royalty time in Putridville again. You owe me for at least two books. I should know -- I bought them from Amazon myself. AFTER my contract was cancelled. Gotcha! On the off chance that you actually intend to pay me the couple of bucks due, I'd like to request that you send the money instead to LemmingAid. This is a charitable organization dedicated to preventing any more senseless cliff jumps by lemmings. LA has promised to notify me when your generous contribution arrives. Don't write the check in invisible ink. That is highly stressful to lemmings.
One Rehabilitated Lemming
Someone at Putrid should write a book titled "How To Live On The Pathetic Amount You Receive In Putrid Royalties" or "The Putrid Guide to Applying for Welfare." Don't let those pennies burn a hole in your pocket!!!
Thank you for the splendid idea! But you didn't sign your name. Bwaaaaak. Of course, we're all used to unsigned correspondence. I suppose you can't be blamed for not signing your e-mail, though. Getting caught would mean a session in the cellar with Billy-Bob, wouldn't it? Poor TWIT.
Wasted Away in Putridville
Another lying, dumbshit quiz.:)
|Your Life is Rated R|
Your life is definitely adults only. While children accompanied by parents are welcome, they'll probably be scarred for life.
Two quizzes in one day is way over the line, but I couldn't resist this one.
I knew it! This one maybe doesn't lie.
|You're Kind of Stupid|
You got 7/10 questions right!
There's some things most people know... except for you.