It's saturday morning and I'm awake, awake.
I swear my body's electric.
So, a man with a penis attached to his forehead walks into a bar and orders a Manhattan.
The bartender, a shapley woman of indiscriminate age, hands him his drink and says ... is that a penis attached to your forehead, or are you just glad to see me?
That'll be six dollars please.
I've been so in touch with my feminine side lately that I've taken to wearing pads, just in case.
Someone dared me to say that, but it's true, I swear it's true.
Is that a sanitary napkin in your pocket or are you just glad to see me, or could it be something of a more delicate nature?
And finally, this just in.
The pope, through a vatican spokesperson, says:
I ain't dying till this whole Shiavo hysteria blows over. I'm the pope dammit and I expect center stage.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment