by LOBSTERGIRL (I am just posting for her)
From McCain:
"Roses are red,
violets are blue.
Vote for me if you want
your great-great-great grandson
to be in Iraq too!"
"Violets are blue,
Roses are red.
By 2010
I could be dead."
"Roses are red,
Grass is green.
Listen you asshole,
who said I was mean?"
"Roses are red
violets are blue.
I dumped my first wife
when she became disabled and fat!"
Oh hey, here's one from Huckabee:
"Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
My wife Janet's subservient
and you will be too!"
Coming in on the train today, passed an apartment with a big pink poster filling one window: "I HEART MY PERIOD."
Moments ago...
Erin: (holding a jug of aloe vera juice) Hey kid! YOU WANNA GET HIGH?!
Roommate: I'm on the phone!
Erin: Oops!
Roommate: Yeah so anyway, Mom....
Dear Amy:
Thanks for the great idea - a Marshmallowtini. I'm on it, sister.
Things here at the Betty Ford Clinic have slowed down a little since Patrick Kennedy left, all "cured" and ready to take up the people's business again. I think Betty Ford has gone into the red after the three beds he broke with Norah O'Donnell, Chris Hitchens and Tucker Carlson. Apparently people of all persuasions find his strawberry blond moptop irresistible, or else they're just stealing his penile effluvia for blackmail later.
Gotta run - I'm supposed to be in the welcoming party for Tony Blankley. He just pulled up in his Lincoln Navigator, which is towing his Escalade. Guess he must've gotten his kid to breathe into the ignition, since he ran over Kirk Cameron trying to parallel park those fuckers. Kirk was supposed to be ministering to us in preparation for missionary work in Chad - so much for that! (I had no idea they had substance abuse problems over there.)
Fondly,
Your Derrière
Dear My Derrière,
I understand that you recently decided to puff up like a marshmallow. Just because I spent the winter sitting around knitting and drinking booze, I don't agree that this was necessary. However, you obviously have a mind of your own and I suppose it is your prerogative. What I do not approve of is your behavior this morning as I was bending over to pick up my dropped keys. Was it really necessary to split the lining of my favorite slacks from hip to knee? I expect you to make restitution by immediately shrinking back to your former shape. And not splitting the pants any further until we make it home from work.
With Regards,
Amy
Dear NJ SBB 75X (Blue Ford),
I hate more than your driving. I hate you. Personally. Do you know how I can tell? It's because your driving is so incredibly ineffectively narcissistic and shamefully bad that it is clearly indicative of your entire personality, as though the rat bastard asshole inside of you runs rampant through every facet of your life.
Thankfully, I have only had to experience your nobody-is-as-important-as-I-am, irresponsible, dangerous, megalomaniacal driving once - on Sunday, June 26, 2005 on Route 80. The way you wove in and out of speeding traffic incessantly, but basically got nowhere was annoying to me and all of the other drivers in your vacinity. We all wanted you dead, but didn't want you to take us with you. Your constant habit of jumping back into lanes that had no room for you and then slamming on your brakes at 70 miles per hour must be stopped.
I hope that if you are the spoiled, evil, newbie driver kid I suspect you are, that someday your parents google their license plate number and find this and suspend your driving privelages FOREVER.
Get OFF THE ROAD,
NY ***-***
Re: On Dove Look Closely: Roeper Boasts Two Messages of His Own
Things I love about this because they confirm all of my worst
assumptions about this dick:
1) I have loved women -- as friends and family members -- of all
shapes and sizes.
-- Not as lovers or girlfriends, though, of
course, because Roeper don't truck with fatties! But he won't,
like, push his cousin out into traffic because her ass jiggles. How
generous! He is capable of human emotion!
2) I once had a serious relationship with a woman whose image was
plastered on billboards all over the country and in Mexico --
billboards for Bacardi Silver.
-- He so totally dates models!
Unimportant models, sadly, but models! I wonder if he asks
potential mates whether or not they have been in a *national*
campaign, because someone of his Herculean stature certainly cannot
date any models who only have a few JC Penney fliers under their
belts!
Airkiss,
Sarah
Dear Neighbor,
I have noticed you have a girlfriend. You can stop reminding me now. I've seen her several times, with and without you. We have had a few brief but pleasant conversations, and she seems like a lovely woman. She is friendly and upbeat and I tend to smile when I see her.
You have been a little too quick to point out other things about her, and I'd like you to know that further elaboration is unecessary. I don't need her tattoos pointed out to me. They are lovely, and obvious -- highlighting is unwarranted. It takes more than some ink and some riding leathers to turn Clara Barton into Elizabeth Bathory. Non-sequiturs regarding her devious strangeness and modeling career (your glaring finger-quotes serving only to lend innuendo to an otherwise common resume entry) merely reduce her to being an antidote for your middle-management stylings, mid-life crisis and Grant Goodeve helmet.
Cut it out. She doesn't deserve it.
Sincerely,
Your Downstairs Neighbor
I am loving this finger in the Wendy's chili if only because it allows me to have the following exchange several times in a day:
Erin: Did you hear the new development in that finger-chili story?
Person: No.
Erin: Well, they have a hotline and a $50k reward for anyone with a hot finger tip...!
Person: ...
Erin: Did you hear what I said? A HOT FINGER TIP!
To that poor woman who thought the suspect finger might be the one she lost in a leopard attack (awesome), don't worry. I'm sure it will turn up.
No matter how many times David Duchovny repeats the word isafro during his interview wth Jon Stewart I do not get what it means. I must be from Iowa.
Il Papa's funeral is being described as the biggest the world has ever seen.
R.I.P Saul Bellow! I never thought Courtney Love and Matthew Perry would outlive you.
Be careful, Phyllis Diller, Maggie Thatcher, and Lady Bird Johnson!
