Some people. Some people like expired milk. Usually in a cream sauce.
Me, I prefer milk that’s been flame-broiled and served with a mango salsa dip.
My pet raccoon likes milk after it’s been blended into a liquid.
It takes all types of milk to feed the world, apparently.
Expired cat food
Can be used instead of tea
In most recipes.
I learned this today
While making chocolate fudge
While the cat helped out.
Ever wonder what’s underneath the walk-on part of a treadmill? I know you have. I opened one up to find out.
Inside I found:
I’m glad we could be of service in your treadmill investigating needs. Please do not hesitate to contact us again in the future, again. In the future.
Frillick to the tongs
And banderthump the lantern
Please don’t eat the grants.
How do you know if you have a wrong number? Right now it seems like it’s a needlessly complicated process of submitting your number to the number checking facility, waiting 7-10 business days for a confirmation, submitting your confirmation, and then waiting 2-3 weeks for a reply.
Wouldn’t it be nice if you could just try a number, and if it was wrong, you’d be told right then? Essentially instant wrong number notification?
Well, I’m working on it. I think I almost have it. Now, don’t go stealing this. I’ve done all the patenting that I need to do (patents pending) so if you steal my idea I’ll take your stuff from you and make it my own. That’s what I do. Evil laughter.
My corn chip garden. How I love my corn chip garden. It nourishes me daily. Sometimes it will shear my sheep for me, but only in slow motion. Corn chips aren’t the quickest chips around, especially when they’re still growing.
The sheep also love the corn chips. Their favorite bit is being able to nibble on the corn chips while they’re being sheared. I tried that at the barber once, biting the barber’s hands and scissors, but it didn’t go over as well as I hoped.
If only I was a sheep and had corn chip shearing, that would take care of all of those problems.
Go down to the lake
Where the badgers have their picnics
You can swim and frolic
And gallavant and play
But don’t splash the badgers
They’ll throw their picnics at you
And those picnics are likely to
Bite you
Ouch
I really like spending my Fridays underground. Tunnels are good. A random groundhog hole is good as well.
You just never know when being underground on a Friday will come in handy. Take three weeks ago. Please. All that rain? I stayed 100% dry due to being underground. The umbrella and poncho helped a little bit, too, but the undergroundness of where I was was really the thing that made the biggest difference.
And if someone’s looking for me? They never check underground. And everyone’s always looking for me on Fridays, wanting to give me cake and presents and things like that. I don’t want to give in to that kind of thing. They’re so relentless.
In conclusion, being underground on Fridays is always a good thing and never a bad thing. Thank you, thank you.
At long last, an early draft of the screenplay for The Room Where Nobody Disappears.
The distant subway trains clack off to somewhere else. They fade out and fade away, and eventually fall asleep. The subway tracks would be deserted, and you would need a rabbit to guide you from station to station.
They’re all connected, and the rabbits know the way. Put your faith in your bunny guide, and follow it to your future.
Don’t paint your rabbit. It might seem like a good idea at first (you know, so you can recognize it easier) but it never works out as well as you think it should. If you have to, give your rabbit a unique name. “Bunny” isn’t the best choice, but it’s better than “Frampton.” You know how people are with their rabbitnames.