I don’t know anything about bees. I stopped after A.
I always drink Irish whiskey neat, and would never think about “making” a tasty abomination such as depicted below:
How wasn’t it?
It would have been smooth, refreshing, and working every time.
Shouldn’t there be a Ding Dong™ in there, too?
That was for an alternate universe where I would never have done something like the following depicted.
But I don’t drink “Irish coffees” either, so I wouldn’t know.
I’m totally not craving a Ding Dong to complete the circle, because it would not be the ritualistic, impulsive behavior of a glutton, rather than the model citizen subject is at all times.
I’ve got hips like Waterford Crystal.
A hot dog eating contest got me into this mess in the first place and I don’t see how another one is gonna get me back out of it.
I’ve never said to one of my neighbors, “Oh, hi, Karen! What kind of supplements did you use to bulk up? I’m a hard gainer, but you’re doing great! Looks good on you! I also like your dog! Hope you like my alarm clock at 0200. I like it too!”
I’ve never hummed the theme song to Sanford & Son while passing derelict caravans of RVs twice or more daily.
I also have never said “Lamont, you dummy!” to anyone IRL in a poor Redd Foxx impersonation.
I’m a chocolate bar. Break off bits of me and enjoy me all day.
Some people call me Maurice.
If you want, I can turn your enemies into furniture.
Oh, fibs. I was all excited and prepared to pay any reasonable price.
This poster despises no one in particular, at work or at play, and would never imagine any just recompense for past and present excellent deeds.
I never use adult language, IRL, because I revere the English tongue, and always respect the tender ears of younglings. And I don’t think that the lingua franca should be a synthetic language, such as the Latin of the silver age, nor the Finnish of the present age.