What a difference my teeth make!
Top 5, last time I brushed:
1. ‘I Like Ike’ buttons taught to French kiss
2. Stew that’s all, like, salty for the wrong reasons, know what I’m sayin’?
3. The overlap of concentric circles representing the Franklin Mint and armpit odor
4. Porcelain counter tops that amplify electronic flatulence
5. Middle management techniques that include saying “Wonka wonka wonka” while swallowing junior mints
Top 5, week of, 2010:
1. Overheard in 1958: “That right fielder of the Tigers looks like he’d have some mighty dee-lish spleen juice!”
2. Mountain bikers who wipe their bums with liquid nails
3. Links pertaining to, but not directly referencing, pepper-stained ovaries
4. Seaside gentlemen who seem exceedingly sensitive about their whiskey-scented urine
5. Final French fish that isn’t a rock reference?
Showing posts with label sports. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sports. Show all posts
01 June 2010
08 April 2010
Speaking of Golf...
If you're ever close to the green and can't remember which clubs to take out of the bag, we at LT have composed a song to help you remember (to the tune of Sinatra's whatever-the-hell-that-song-is-called):
Wedge and putter,
Wedge and putter,
Go together like
Bread and butter...
(Actually, that's all we've written so far.)
Wedge and putter,
Wedge and putter,
Go together like
Bread and butter...
(Actually, that's all we've written so far.)
05 March 2009
The Replacement Coach and the Provisional Administrator
“There any asswipe on your side?”
“Hey pal, why the hell didn’t you check before taking a—wait a sec! PA, is that you?”
[giggle] “Oh you! I was trying to disguise my voice!”
“Never mind that—what the hell are you doing in the men’s room?”
“It’s quicker.”
“But you can’t be in here.”
“It’s quicker.”
“It’s not for you!”
“It’s quicker.”
“Never mind. Just—”
[ppppp ppppp pppplack]
“—What the hell was that?”
“Sorry—poultry.”
“Whoa! Smells like roadkill. What did you eat-a raw chicken?”
[giggle] “Come on. It’s not supposed to be, like, lemony fresh, now is it?”
“Jeez, I got to get out of here. We have a game in 15 minutes.”
“You’re a tennis coach.”
“So?”
“I’m no expert, but I remember them being called matches.”
“Here’s a match: your face and my—“
“Just give me some TP. Please.”
“OK, here.”
[ppppppppppplllaaaacckkkkk]
“On second thought, never mind.”
“Oh come on RC!”
[ppp ppp ppplack ppplack]
“Forget it. I’m not putting my hand any closer to that crapfest than necessary.”
“Well what am I supposed to use?”
“Got any turds?”
“Uh, of course.”
“There yuh go.”
“I’m supposed to wipe my ass with a turd?”
“Why not?”
“Well, just off the top of my head, it would seem that I would be augmenting, as it were, the very substance I’m trying to remove, thereby—”
“Just do it!”
“OK, OK. Keep your pants on.”
“Huh?”
“Sorry, figure of speech.”
“Look, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that if you really believe something is true, then it is. It’s called visuali- victuals-, vaginal-... It doesn’t matter what it’s called. Just grab the turd and start wiping!”
“Fine! I’ll do it! Never let it be said that I won’t do exactly as I’m told!”
[splash]
“Uh…PA…you OK?”
“This is icky. It fell apart in my hands.”
“Hmm, sounds like you need more protein in your diet. Try a Power Bar.”
[plop]
“Oh yuck!”
“Now what?”
“I made a bigger mess than I started with.”
“You didn’t believe, did you?”
“I did believe!”
“But did you really believe? ‘Cause if you had really believed that turd was toilet paper, you’d have wiped your ass clean.”
“I did, I did believe! I swear!”
“Just get dressed and get out of here.”
“But what about the skid marks up and down my vertical smile?”
“What about them?”
“For one thing, they smell.”
“Nobody will notice.”
“They won’t?”
“Not if you want it bad enough!”
“Oh, OK. Thanks!”
[flush]
“Hey pal, why the hell didn’t you check before taking a—wait a sec! PA, is that you?”
[giggle] “Oh you! I was trying to disguise my voice!”
“Never mind that—what the hell are you doing in the men’s room?”
“It’s quicker.”
“But you can’t be in here.”
“It’s quicker.”
“It’s not for you!”
“It’s quicker.”
“Never mind. Just—”
[ppppp ppppp pppplack]
“—What the hell was that?”
“Sorry—poultry.”
“Whoa! Smells like roadkill. What did you eat-a raw chicken?”
[giggle] “Come on. It’s not supposed to be, like, lemony fresh, now is it?”
“Jeez, I got to get out of here. We have a game in 15 minutes.”
“You’re a tennis coach.”
“So?”
“I’m no expert, but I remember them being called matches.”
“Here’s a match: your face and my—“
“Just give me some TP. Please.”
“OK, here.”
[ppppppppppplllaaaacckkkkk]
“On second thought, never mind.”
“Oh come on RC!”
[ppp ppp ppplack ppplack]
“Forget it. I’m not putting my hand any closer to that crapfest than necessary.”
“Well what am I supposed to use?”
“Got any turds?”
“Uh, of course.”
“There yuh go.”
“I’m supposed to wipe my ass with a turd?”
“Why not?”
“Well, just off the top of my head, it would seem that I would be augmenting, as it were, the very substance I’m trying to remove, thereby—”
“Just do it!”
“OK, OK. Keep your pants on.”
“Huh?”
“Sorry, figure of speech.”
“Look, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that if you really believe something is true, then it is. It’s called visuali- victuals-, vaginal-... It doesn’t matter what it’s called. Just grab the turd and start wiping!”
“Fine! I’ll do it! Never let it be said that I won’t do exactly as I’m told!”
[splash]
“Uh…PA…you OK?”
“This is icky. It fell apart in my hands.”
“Hmm, sounds like you need more protein in your diet. Try a Power Bar.”
[plop]
“Oh yuck!”
“Now what?”
“I made a bigger mess than I started with.”
“You didn’t believe, did you?”
“I did believe!”
“But did you really believe? ‘Cause if you had really believed that turd was toilet paper, you’d have wiped your ass clean.”
“I did, I did believe! I swear!”
“Just get dressed and get out of here.”
“But what about the skid marks up and down my vertical smile?”
“What about them?”
“For one thing, they smell.”
“Nobody will notice.”
“They won’t?”
“Not if you want it bad enough!”
“Oh, OK. Thanks!”
[flush]
10 August 2008
16 Activities that are no Dumber than Some Olympic Sports
Balancing a beach ball on one’s foreskin
Cultivation of arm pit juice
Estimating the correct circumference of Ashlee Simpson’s butt pimples
Spork tossing
Molding Cheez Whiz into the shape that best approximates a tortoise pancreas
Vomiting handkäse on the side of a stagecoach museum
Sucking navel lint (judged per poundage)
Molecularization of ear wax
Measuring J’s with a straight edge
Dancing around drops of urine on a rusted shower drain
Blowing spit bubbles sans milk
Turning textbook pages with the blade of a scythe
Making Disney jokes in the vapid netherworld of space
Stare downs with crotch rot
Goin’ all “Sal Muncy” at square dances
Making lists of activities that are no dumber than some Olympic sports
Cultivation of arm pit juice
Estimating the correct circumference of Ashlee Simpson’s butt pimples
Spork tossing
Molding Cheez Whiz into the shape that best approximates a tortoise pancreas
Vomiting handkäse on the side of a stagecoach museum
Sucking navel lint (judged per poundage)
Molecularization of ear wax
Measuring J’s with a straight edge
Dancing around drops of urine on a rusted shower drain
Blowing spit bubbles sans milk
Turning textbook pages with the blade of a scythe
Making Disney jokes in the vapid netherworld of space
Stare downs with crotch rot
Goin’ all “Sal Muncy” at square dances
Making lists of activities that are no dumber than some Olympic sports
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