Saturday, March 24, 2007
I showed this to my friend Mel last night. It caused her to observe that, even though she loves me, the stuff that makes me howl with laughter just doesn't do it for her. Then she said that my humor coincides best with another friend of hers, Mrs. VDH, and she doesn't understand why our humor isn't hers.
To which I started in with "Charlie! Hey, Charlie! Come to Candy Mountain, Charlie!" She clamped her hands over her ears and started moaning in pain.
Just watch it. Cow Tse Tung.
To get back at Mel for not having a sense of humor that doesn't perfectly coincide with mine and Mrs. VDH, I snuck over to her house this morning (AKA Damned That's A Big Oak Tree. Oh yeah, there is a house back there.) and spent three hours sweeping up the leaves on her driveway, sidewalks, and curb. I left two piles of leaves.
The one against her garage door is about 4 feet tall and about 5x7 feet square. I was going to make one BIG pile of leaves up against the garage door, just for the visual impact, but I realized about halfway through that if I did this I would not only block off the entrance to her house, I would also cover the entire east side of her driveway and that's where her roommate (who we all like and who has better looking hair than any of us, even when we brush ours) parks. So the second pile is down by the sidewalk. It is a little smaller, about 4x6, and only about 3 feet tall. While it does create sort of a slalom course for He Of The Better Hair to negotiate in order to park, it is better than nothing (AKA street parking).
Upon returning home I swallowed two hydrocodone before I even bothered to peel off my filthy clothes. I tore the curled up skin from the blister on the inside of my right thumb off (I was wearing leather gloves Mom, I swear!) and entrapped it in plastic and tape before I showered because the only thing worse than having every muscle in your body hurt is having every muscle in your body hurt and having Head and Shoulders wash over a freshly burst blister. Mel, you might not love Cows With Guns, and Candy Mountain may make you want to poke your ear drums out with a chop stick, but you damned well better love me.
To which I started in with "Charlie! Hey, Charlie! Come to Candy Mountain, Charlie!" She clamped her hands over her ears and started moaning in pain.
Just watch it. Cow Tse Tung.
To get back at Mel for not having a sense of humor that doesn't perfectly coincide with mine and Mrs. VDH, I snuck over to her house this morning (AKA Damned That's A Big Oak Tree. Oh yeah, there is a house back there.) and spent three hours sweeping up the leaves on her driveway, sidewalks, and curb. I left two piles of leaves.
The one against her garage door is about 4 feet tall and about 5x7 feet square. I was going to make one BIG pile of leaves up against the garage door, just for the visual impact, but I realized about halfway through that if I did this I would not only block off the entrance to her house, I would also cover the entire east side of her driveway and that's where her roommate (who we all like and who has better looking hair than any of us, even when we brush ours) parks. So the second pile is down by the sidewalk. It is a little smaller, about 4x6, and only about 3 feet tall. While it does create sort of a slalom course for He Of The Better Hair to negotiate in order to park, it is better than nothing (AKA street parking).
Upon returning home I swallowed two hydrocodone before I even bothered to peel off my filthy clothes. I tore the curled up skin from the blister on the inside of my right thumb off (I was wearing leather gloves Mom, I swear!) and entrapped it in plastic and tape before I showered because the only thing worse than having every muscle in your body hurt is having every muscle in your body hurt and having Head and Shoulders wash over a freshly burst blister. Mel, you might not love Cows With Guns, and Candy Mountain may make you want to poke your ear drums out with a chop stick, but you damned well better love me.
# posted by Carol : 10:20 PM
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I love that tune.
Cows gathered around because the steaks were so high.
Bad Cow Pun
Sadly my wife doesn't get it.
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Cows gathered around because the steaks were so high.
Bad Cow Pun
Sadly my wife doesn't get it.
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