In the time it takes you to read this post, Henry Waxman, fresh back from having his cornhole bleached, will sit on a cold stool at La Loma and — nearly simultaneously — devise a regulatory plan that would require all Capitol Hill restaurants to line their bar seats with those spongy foam-plastic rings the lumpenprole like to keep strapped to their crappers.
True story! But, uh, anyone got any brain bleach?
o_O
I could have done without that image. You now owe us a story about Angelina Jolie, Meghan Fox and a lubricated ferret.
I blame the Tea Parties for this.
To aid in the visualisation.
I’m just glad Waxman was able to escape Brad and Angelina.
I assume this one can’t be sold as “for the children” without a new definition.
The corn hole bleacher that sneaked across the border 5 years previously and still can’t speak English probably voted for him too…twice.
Don’t forget. Those things need to be replaced ever couple of years, they crack and… well… we could call it a paper cut, but the closest I’ve ever come to matching it was when I was playing “knuckles” with a nice professional lady at the HardRock…and we were using my checkbook, it’s cheap vinyl you see…oh yeah…and not my knuckles.
Greetings:
Thanks for the reminder of those puffy vinyl toilet seats that were popular back in the last ’80s. I first experienced one at the house of my then current sweetheart’s aunt. When I came out of the bathroom, my sweetheart asked me how I liked the puffy and I replied that I couldn’t complete my mission because it felt like I was trying to defecate into a pillow.
If my dog looked like Henry Waxman, I’d get him to run for Congress. After shaving his butt and teaching him to walk backwards.
Seems like it would be hard to prove you haven’t already.