Dear My Hero Katie,

Thanks for taking me to whole new level with you.

Love,
Marie

Who Else Seen the Leprechaun Say YEAH!!

I've never seen anything like this... And I don't throw phrases like that around. SO FUNNY!

Crichton Residents Claim a Leprechaun Lives in a Local Tree

I have a feeling some sh*t is gonna go down tomorrow in Crichton! No one sleeps til that pot o'gold gets found! (Or til the crack head gets jailed... whichever comes first.)

-MVP goes to Meg for sending this-

A Pleasant For You!

Oh I'll do it.

Don't think I won't.

And I don't think you
want me to go there.






If sightings like this make your day, I think you'll enjoy Engrish.

If you have no game... you might be using these.

Gregory and I had a brainstorming session and came up with the worst pick up lines we could think of. Needless to say these may be funnier to us than to you, but thats the weird thing... see... I'm the administrator of this blog! MUAH HA HA!
(We recommend you read these in the voice of a victorian poet man.)

I was born with a heart problem- the doctors said I could never love... But indeed you are that miracle elixir I've been praying for! A few more applications of your ointment and we just might prove them wrong!

Your goodly succulent legs are reminiscent of a renaissance festival turkey leg distributed into my eager hand for a mere pence. I feel I myself am having a rebirth just by looking at them.

If the squiglliest, squishiest fish in the sea was a kiss, she would be french, and she would taste like you. And I wouldn't ask for my mother to pass the tartar sauce, as I often do when eating fish that are not as divine as you, nor can they french like you.

I don't even need to know how to beatbox because the steady rhyme of my heartbeat when you look my direction is enough to lay the baseline of the sickest track of 2006.

A flame like you in my life would warrant cause for suspicion of arson amongst the ashes of my body. You would probably be taken into custody for questioning, you baaaad girl, you.

The watchmen from atop the turrets of the walls of my heart have indicated to me that you have scaled the walls effectively. And, dare I admit, I care not to dispatch the guards, in fact, I would gladly drop my drawbridge any hour, any fortnight, for a damsel such as you, pun intended.

If my soul were a harpsichord, you would be my tuning fork.

If life were a 3-way bulb you would be the brightest setting... until you burned out. Then you would be the second brightest setting... and so on.

Ever since puberty I've been scouring the land for a woman worth polishing up and toting home, as if excavating the ruins of Egypt for treasure troves buried neath pyramids, but to no avail. At long last! When I glanced upon you just this moment, I suddenly knew that I had chanced upon the proverbial mummy of King Tutankhamen- the booty a lifetime.

(This one's for Eliot) You're WILD!

Life is a disc jockey, and he is spinning the cuts both left and right. And here you and I are, dancing, and I cannot help but want to disregard his steady beat entirely and just do the worm with you.

If you were a booger, you would be the dry one that comes out easily... because you are easy.