Have you ever noticed how an uncooked pork tenderloin looks like a huge skinned penis? It's almost disgusting now that I think about it. Actually, it's all that I think about when I'm marinating it. You know like "Oooh, look at my big piece of meat!" Oh and please don't ask me how I should know what a skinned penis looks like! I just do, it's that simple.
hee hee I just bought this on eBay! Yippee!
Why do they call a chain bracelet full of diamonds a tennis bracelet? Would you play tennis with a dainty bracelet that cost you hundreds and hundreds of dollars ferociously whacking at those balls like an enraged prehistoric caveman? Not that playing tennis is prehistoric mind you. Well, not that whacking a big stick grunting has anything remotely near being hum, you know, prehistoric...
Now that my days of employment are almost over, and that I'll find myself homeless roaming the West Coast in a pick-up truck containing ALL of my personal belongings, I'm really starting to review my entire definition and opinion of what constitutes a redneck. Come to think of it, I won't even qualify as trailer trash, since I don't even own or rent a trailer! (Oh and by the way, our truck bed is enclosed, so don't go thinking you can hunt me down on the coast to snag all of my worldly possessions!)
There are times when... Hey remember that cartoon in Bugs Bunny with the 2 dogs? One was a tough pit-bull (or was it a boxer? bulldog?) the other was some little jumping dog? Remember how the little jumping dog kept repeating "Hey boss? Hey boss? He's my hero 'cause he's so big and strong!" And the pit-bull just kept walking straight, he had some kind of cap on his head chewing on a toothpick, like a bit ol' tough mafia dude. Well, that little jumping dog is me. Totally me. And oddly enough there are times where the roles ARE reversed in my life like for those two dogs, and suddenly the tough one is all over me looking for leadership. It's weird.