Dear heathens, harpies, Luddites and all-around losers:

Make mine a double.

Simultaneously, you could memorize the correct spelling of cryogenically.

They’d have to pay ME to go to a pro game.

My neighbors care.

Which search engine do you use? My Google is never that fast.

Who’s Hsu? Never heard of the fella’. Truly. The New Yorker? Never heard of them, either. (Less truly.)

Top of the morning, me lad.

A couple of years back I went to my neighbor’s house for a Super Bowl get-together. The hosts were a mother and daughter from the Congo, straight out of Congo.  Their two spectacular grandkids, ages six and four, as well as a sister-in-law, originally from Cambodia, were there, too. None of them had ever had a Sausage…

Hua Hsu? Never heard of the fella’. Truly. The New Yorker? Never heard of it, either. (Less truly.)

Top of the morning to you, me lad.

Albert, huh?

During sex, missionary position only, while Roger resolutely grinds and whispers about his abs, Mrs. Goodell stares at the ceiling and thinks “Beige. My life is beige.”

An utter fucking moron.

Pants DJ’s advice for enjoying yourself at work or play: “Remove pants. Mingle.”

I’m averting my eyes!

Jones could pass as Pitino’s father. Both have the classic symptoms—irritability, gauntness, blotchy skin and bug eyes—of someone gagging on their bullshit.

Jones could pass as Pitino’s father. Both have the classic symptoms—irritability, gauntness, blotchy skin and bug eyes—of someone gagging on their bullshit.

Huh?

And his son still never makes an All-Star team.