You go ahead and jump. Me, I’m fine here on the couch with a bag of barbecue pork rinds and the elastic waistband on my sweatpants, thank you very much.
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Oh, Jeff, might as well…
Speaking of 80’s music, I never realized just how unspeakably lame J Geils front-man Peter Wolf’s solo work was until I heard “Lights Out” this weekend for the first time in about 20 years.
Ugh.
I prefer the red-hot pork rinds. They go well with beer.
Oh Jeff, why must you lie?
You’re not on the couch; I can see you standing there with your back against the record mach-ee-eene.
Yeah, well, I always pictured you more as the type sitting around thinking about how hot his teacher was.
Reach back between your legs…ease the recliner back…
And don’t eat too many of those BBQ rinds. Or you’ll be “runnin’” like the devil.
Well, you ain’t the worst that I’ve seen, and I think you know what I mean.
wait, is this a reference to mr cabo wabo, antics ensuing with electric guitars, screetches and lots of spandex, or are you talking about those corn-rowed twins who put their pants on backwards? ‘cause I’m pretty sure if the kids are telling you to jump, you might want to make sure their mac daddy isn’t around before you just blow them off like that.