In this case, it's spot-on as far as topic:
Yarr. Ye won't be taking no liberties with the female buccaneer. Truly a bastion of feminism, ye woman pirate will seize ye gold, cut off ye genitals and wear them as a necklace, all before her morning grog. Empowering. Yarrr.
You see, my dears? It even mentions grog. I couldn't be chuffier. Yarrr.
I liberated this excellent (and refreshingly short) poll off Rum and Monkey, but I originally read of it at the Cornjob Memorial Library, whilst wearing a clever disguise.
4 comments:
welcome home, miz b! chad's quit, but i resolved the olive crisis. we have rats, but they're family and mr. boab erm, treats them. the mcfinster brothers are too tired most nights to do much more than finish a beer before toddlin' off to home. mr. boab just wears them out. he's a sweet man, really. seriously loves the scotch and the potato salad with bobs 'n bits and appears to get along well with my lil rodent num-nums second cousins, twice removed.
the inventory is done, the bank receipts are in the bag...and your bartender is gonna go get offa her manola blahniks and....and...something with a fruity rum punch complete with lil umbrella, because i'm gonna keep score. but not work.
did i mention how thrilled i am that your back? and might i add that your vacation certainly agreed with you? quite the sparkle in your eye. i've warned everyone you'll probably want to start spring cleanin'.
what happened to the erm, over-sized critter you bargained so skillfully for with the natives?
gee, i'm glad you're back miz b. *nodsnodsnods*
Hallo wee bonnie snuggs!
#pulls up barstool#
Gude mairnin lasse! Hauyebe? Culd ye gis o’pat o’parritch, love. M’kytes tim an timmer’n a brewery wark!
parritch, mr. boab??? we have grits....grits tout seul, grits avec du buerre, and grits with maple syrup. personally, i think grits taste like what i would imagine wallpaper paste tastes like; however, you and yours eat haggis, so grits ought to be a walk in the park for you. have at it; there's a surplus. *nods*
Gritz? Wot tae.. O’ aye, shut me geggy!
Wee bonnie snuggs wot be gritz? I cannae git yerr meanin.
I didnae eat haggis love; thems guid furry beasties ~ an shy to’ wi’ eyes o’ howlet, dark ye ken? Sad be thae, an bring theysel tae greetin oer huntin. Hae a’bit o’ care pet. #eyes wet#
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