Tag Archives: Lemonade is for wimps

In Praise of Sandwiches

Sandwiches are really lovely, aren’t they? I like bacon, mushroom and onion ones best of all; which is another way of saying “I’ve got nothing”. See you tomorrow with a Northumberland Folklore piece and a linky post, ‘cos it’s been far too long since I pimped* anyone.

In the meantime, here are some things I’ve learned:

Primus: Boohbah is the scariest program ever put on television.
b: Despite what popular conception tells you, string does not make an adequate makeshift belt. It will snap. Your trousers will fall down.
3: Activating a talking Puss in Boots from Shrek toy as the cat sniffs at it once, will elicit a hilarious backwards jumping and fluffing of the tail. Trying it a second time will result in that same cat attempting to amputate your face. (Probably deservedly so, I admit)
iiii: There appears to be no moral low to which I will not stoop in pursuit of cake. Assassination for cake hasn’t arisen yet, but if it does, I’m not responsible for my actions. Just so you know…
: Putting your mouth over the cold water tap and turning the lever all the way to full blast as fast as you can, results in a passable impersonation of a fountain cherub. There’s also a mild choking hazard, but the risk of appearing on the Darwin Awards shortlist is well worth it.
Finally: When life gives you lemons, the correct response is to squeeze the juice into life’s eyes, punch it in the throat while it’s temporarily blind, then stamp on its groin when it falls to the ground choking. If anyone tries telling you it’s “make lemonade”, squeeze lemon juice in their eyes, punch them in the throa- you know where I’m going with this.

More bloggage tomorrow. TTFN

* WARNING! If I pimp you out, I want my cut dammit! My pimp hand is strong

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