WARNING: Gratuitous, often incomprehensible wang innuendo ahead.
No, no. GUESS:
It's NOT a uterus. Or a ruptured trouser weasel. Scout's honor.
It's an exploding thermometer. Like this:
Yep. THAR SHE BLOWS.
This is ALSO not a one-eyed zipper splitter (with accompanying cherry pit):
Nope, it's a kite.
Remember, my friends, no man is an island.
But sometimes his inflatable leg nose is.
We sure see a lot of "balloons" that look more like doggy-paddlin' miracle grow:
(Doggy-paddlin' to freedom.)
...but sometimes the balloons get a bit more... nutty.
Great gobs of pendulous plum pillows!
Whoever did this should be sacked.
Hey, speaking of balls:
Never make Dad the butt of his own cookie cake.
And finally, a self-rising lap baguette the baker was so proud of, she had to put a ribbon on it:
The three "fun-slinger" salute was also a nice touch.
(Although once you see it, the green "slung" bits get pretty dang disturbing.)
Thanks to the appropriately named Phyllis B., Alicia W., Christina M., Jessica N., Kristine C., Lauren B., Sheree K., & Charlie for just being happy to see these wrecks, and not having any butterfly cakes in their pockets.
And from my other blog, Epbot: