08 Feb 07
Originally posted by PhlabibitI used to be. Turns out sailors never bathe. The whales started to smell better. Then I decided to be a madame for a while, in walking distance from a port of course because the sea still beckoned. Well, before long I was seeing the same sailors, and my girls were having the same complaints about them that I'd had. They refused to work, and I nearly lost all of my investment. Then I had an idea! I changed the name of my place from Reader's Kittens to Hoist The Mainsail. The sailors now ... um, play chess -- yeah, that's it ... with other sailors. I just provide the place and collect fees. I also bought lots of soap.
Thanx in advance.
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08 Feb 07
Originally posted by Phlabibit'I was writing a letter to my dad, and I meant to write 'really' but I accidentally wrote 'rarely.' I wanted to use it though, so I wrote 'I rarely....drive steamboats, dad. There's a lot of sht you don't know about me.'
Thanx in advance.
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-Mitch Hedberg.
08 Feb 07
1 edit
Originally posted by Phlabibit"All men live enveloped in whale-lines. All are born with halters round their necks; but it is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death, that mortals realize the silent, subtle, ever present perils of life."
Thanx in advance.
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Tell 'em Herman! :'( Tell 'em like it is!
"Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off--then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can." 😉
