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Friday, December 28, 2007

Holy Mother of Cold Mornings, It’s Cold This Morning.

Know what I mean?

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Fleece-lined pants.

That’s all I have to say.

on Dec 28 2007 @ 08:14 AM

(from Hawaii): No, I don’t think I know what you mean at all.  Anyone for the beach this afternoon?

on Dec 28 2007 @ 09:23 AM

I wish I was in Hawaii. Without the fleece-lined pants, of course.

on Dec 28 2007 @ 09:31 AM

You’ve always been welcome, you know.
Well, until April at least...that’s when I leave, and you have to find someone else to welcome you.

on Dec 28 2007 @ 09:47 AM

Where is your next stop? Back to Washington?

on Dec 28 2007 @ 09:59 AM

The phrase we use here is, “Cold as a witch’s tit.”

on Dec 28 2007 @ 10:02 AM

West Texas.

on Dec 28 2007 @ 10:26 AM

Let me put it this way:

Ron Paul and Mike Gravel each has a higher rating than the thermometer right now.

on Dec 28 2007 @ 05:54 PM


on Dec 28 2007 @ 08:00 PM

It was so cold, I slept with Paris Hilton just to get the burning sensation.  HEY-O!

on Dec 28 2007 @ 08:13 PM

It was so cold, my nipples got hard and I wasn’t even looking at a picture of Oprah!  YESSIR!

on Dec 28 2007 @ 08:17 PM


on Dec 28 2007 @ 08:19 PM

yes, too much information.  In fact, the image is still making me nauseous.

David, can we go beat up Dorkafork now?

on Dec 28 2007 @ 08:40 PM

No way. He gets too many bonus points for the Paris Hilton line.

That Oprah bit was painful, though.

on Dec 28 2007 @ 09:42 PM

David, can we go beat up Dorkafork now?

...with a wireless keyboard?
on Dec 29 2007 @ 03:49 PM

If that is what it takes.

on Dec 29 2007 @ 05:06 PM
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