Okay, so it's more than six years old and everyone hearts pirates now, and some of the other former writers for Sweet Fancy Moses will recognize it from days of email past BUT, har she be:
- I find myself trying to make others walk planks.
- Raping and pillaging sounds ho-hum to me.
- ‘Argh’ finds its way into my vocabulary on a daily basis.
- All I value is buried.
- ‘Bootie’ has multiple meanings for me, all of which are pleasing.
- My maps all have at least one large, hand-drawn X on them.
- Peg-legs and patched eyes are aesthetically appealing, even if the two combined on one individual seem like overkill.
- My best friend is a foul-mouthed parrot. [Two points if it curses bilingually.]
- When I look at clouds, I often see skulls, treasure chests, and the Queen’s Navy.
- You call it superstition. I call it experience.
- Society has a reverse view of what I consider 'dreams' and 'nightmares.'
- Forcibly tattooing friends is an expression of love. (Am I right, Queequeg, or am I right?)
- Men who don’t have both ears pierced I know to be both poor seamen and faint of heart.
- The people I care most about I caution to, “Be sure to have plenty o’ lime, or yew’ll be gettin’ the scurvy.”
- My Freudian slips usually involve large metal hooks, flesh, and gold.
- Land pisses me off.
8 comments:
Six years? You were really ahead of the pirate curve! I don't freckognize that.
I like this most ominous-sounding one: "All I value is buried."
Dead smoochy-partners. Kissyface O'Corpse.
Just remember lads, when out on a pirate date and things are getting hot - maybe you find yourself reaching for the tied-off lamb intestine - just remember: "Avast means avast"
NOW THAT'S WHAT I CALL COMEDY, VOL. 5,477!
(Seriously. I larfed out lood.)
From now on when I go to the gynosaurus, my Comforting Thought will be: 'Relax. It's not attached to him. And there's no hook. AND you can still safely parlay this into a breast massage.'
Ha! Breast-massage callback! DNM: Turning the Tables on Molest-y Doctors Since... A Week or So Ago?
My Comforting Thought is: "Relax. It's not like you've just been jacked open like a car with a flat on the side of the Jersey Turnpike."
Oh wait.
Ya, I mean it's not like we're essentially on some vagina conveyor belt.
Oh. Wait.
Let's just stick with Reverse Molestation.
Vagina Conveyor Belt = in same appliance family as Revulvaing Door.
"Don't run with the clitssors!"
Which so many people labia-r'd hard to produce.
Post a Comment