Whoaaaa MAN.

[putting on sunglasses]

[lighting groovy cigarette]

[signalling groovy bass player to start groovy bass music]

CAKE!

So sad, bra.

Standing like Santa,

Grilling like gangsta...

I wonder who gives out more
COAL.

[whispering]

As the ephemeral frigidity succumbs to day's full wrath...

My cone melts.

CAKE!

Sad.
Cake.

Dripping like mad

Come back to my pad

I'll make you
a
sprinkle
surprise.

Hey Jane, hand me
that shovel.

Why's it always have to be snakes?

Popsicle.

IN MY FACE.

[blows out candle]

Thanks to Kristin and Gary H., Ashley B., Ellen M., Mab R., Wendy H., Rachel J., & Margot V. We're all snapping our fingers in your direction.

*****

P.S. In case this post wasn't painful enough:

Exceptionally Bad Dad Jokes

There are a lot of "dad joke" books out there, but this one has awesome ratings AND the word "spiffing" on the cover, so it's a clear winner.

******

And from my other blog, Epbot:

HaiCakes!

Sometimes I find a wreck or two that makes me feel all poetical and stuff.

These...[dramatic pause]... are those wrecks.

Barren winter tree

on a giant bare cookie.

Woo. Celebration.

Circle of sprinkles

instead of decorations

because it's break time.

A fish in the sky.

She turned me into a newt!

But...I got better.

Packing foam peanuts,

A big shiny pile of...wait.

Is that Tiana?

Blue, orange, yellow.

A cheerful makeover for

the eye of Sauron.

And now, let's hear a piece from the king of beat poetry himself:

Spot on, Data. Spot. On.

Thanks to Ellen B., Rachel W., Jodee R., Meg G., & Lizzie B. who also have hedonistic predilections for demonstrations of affection, but we don't talk about that.

*****

And from my other blog, Epbot: