Feb 28 2006
cats can’t cook
after-beer words of wisdom paraphrased in a local (US) regional phraseology:
Wendy: “I needs me a boyfriend to do the cookin’ and stuff, cats is ok but they caint cook”
Matrix: shhhhhhhnnnnrrrrrrrrrr……….
Cats, like boyfriends, can and do snore
Am I DULL or what!!!
cats can’t cook
Jesus! (Oh, “His” name! Whatever.) I can hook ya up with more grammatical rednecks if’n that’s what yer after.
I likes me a woman who’s inta rednicks.Wimmings is ok by me! Likes ‘em!
Did you wander onto the set of some remake of Deliverance? WTF?
Stop goin’ to bars in Poulsbo . . .
Better yet . . . take me with you. I can play you effeminate younger brother. (Oh how many times have I done that? 3? Yes.Three.)
Deepest apologies for being drunk and for forgetting that I shouldn’t make references to myself that other folks wouldn’t necessarily understand. Oops.
How would the Wendy House not be able to read my mind? I wasn’t even wearing my aluminum foul beanie at the time, after all.