—Feh. Bad timing, I’m afraid. Fact is, I’ve already got the little guy secured with a couple bungee cords and electrical tape into a beautifully compact geodesic sphere, which I’ve jerry-rigged with white Christmas lights and adorned with fifty-one 1/2” candied glass panels designed to mimic the Waterford Crystal triangular plates used in the Times Square New Year’s Eve ball. Tomorrow night, at precisely 11:59:58, I drop the bastard from a 40’ backyard diving platform into baby pool filled with secondhand Kenny G CDs.
Which is what he gets for cracking open the case of Chandon Brut Classic I’d put aside for New Year’s Eve and getting our sixteen-year-old babysitter drunk as an Irish bridesmaid, then—after she’d passed out in her wee bra and panties—drinking the last 5 bottles himself out of her Simple Sugar Star-Perfs like some miniature Lothario on the half shell.
Boy, were Kimee’s parents ever pissed.
Is the little guy just not interested or is he incapable? So close, but so unable to complete the mission. WOW, I woulda dived.
Dang! All I have is a dumb dog to blame farts on. I’m getting me one of them armadillos. . .
I knew that scaly rat was trouble. After his Kenny G demise, I suggest braising. Littlr bastards are tough, and require slow cooking with moist heat.
Do you have to get them young and train them? How do you housetrain something like Jeff has? He can’t even keep the little fella out of the booze….probably soils the carpet too….and there is that leprosy thing.
I wonder how ‘dillo on the half shell tastes. We might as well eat the little bastard…he ain’t never gonna dance for us.
tw; This makes how many weeks now he has failed to perform?
Actually I think the ‘dillo has Jeff trained to keep the liquor cabinet full.
Will the babysitter dance in his place?
I’m just asking.
I have finally put it all together, the armadillo if Jeff’s alter ego.
Right before I read this, I was surfing Wikipedia and went from polyphasic sleep, to Buckminster Fuller, to geodesic dome.
Coincidence? Well, yeah probably.
So….
Are you implying that Jeff is actually to blame for the outcomes described and he’s simply laying the blame at the poor Dasypod’s podiae?
You know, Jeff, I’ve noticed that for a blog named “Pro-teen Wisdom,” you’re not exactly overflowing with pro-positive life tools to help the adolescent set avoid those sticky inappropriate peer-2-teen choice behaviors (like these guys). Perhaps in the new year, you should resolve to provide helpful advice to our nation’s young people, who, in your old age, will be the one’s feeding you, changing your dipers, and embezzling your retirement funds in the old folks home.
Don’t hate the player, Jeff.
Happy New Year, all!
Why only secondhand Kenny G CD’s?
He keeps Moët et Chandon
In his dorsal armament…
Well, thank God for the armour, I guess…
There is nothing wrong with that armadillo figment that couldn’t be resolved with a resolute dunking into a bubbling pot of molten gruyère.
Brut? You serve deodorant for New Year’s?
Ok nevermind the dance. *That* performance was way more entertaining!
But is it a public geodesic sphere?
Given the addition of Kimee, I think you included one too many ‘L’s…
{not a pervert, I swear}
what? are you funding this shindig?
Jeff is making far too much use of the ASPCA loophole that allows hilarious cruelty to animals. (We’re all thinking it.)
tw: court
I can see where this is going to wind up.
Jeff, you may want to pass this post on to Derbyshire. I’m sure it will give him much… ummmm… pleasure.