Burgh Sucks Like a Dyson in Texas

Jump to Comments

*Peeks around corner*

hello?

Anybody there?

HI!

Burgh here.  Yeah, The Burgh.  The one that AFF spends entirely too much time saying is funny and that the real funny chicks that were in charge earlier in the week talked up way more than necessary.  You know what happens when a bunch of people say you’re funny and go and build up big expectations?  Life grabs itself the most ginormous straw you’ve ever seen and sucks every last ounce of funny out of your brain.

Hear that?  That’s the sound of life burping on my funny.  I’ve heard it tastes like chicken when it comes back around the second time.

So, I’ve spent the entire week trying to think of what I would write over here.  At first, I was going to endlessly mock Southerners and some of the crazy things they make their kids wear.  But then I remembered that time I kind of sort of but not really inadvertently assisted someone else in proclaiming that jon-jons were grounds for your kid not liking you in a few years.  When I kind of sort of but not really did that, I wound up with a box full of Dora stickers and temporary tattoos in the mail.  The only thing I hate more than Dora is my 2-year old walking around with a semi permanent tramp stamp featuring good old football head.  Lord knows what AFF would do to me if I really let loose on some wardrobe malfunctions of the toddler kind.

My next thought was to provide a sort of list of rules for Puppy.  You know, a helpful guide to not getting your ass kicked by AFF.  I was going to suggest things like frequent manicures for himself, shopping at Tiffany’s at least once per month, and sending Calla Lillies each and every Friday.  Then I remembered that time I sent a set of nail clippers down to Texas especially for Puppy.  He might just find a way to come to Pittsburgh to gouge my eyes out with those nail clippers if I don’t leave him alone.

I thought about doing another one of my favorite kinds of posts, one of those ones where I go shopping for stupid stuff like creepy dolls.  The thought of AFF being stuck looking at a freaktacular baby doll on her very own blog amused me for at least ten minutes.  The only problem was that I would have had to look at all the dolls in order to get them posted here.  My brain still hasn’t recovered from the last time, so I decided that wasn’t a good option either.

In honor of AFF’s trip to the happiest place I used to work at, I briefly considered sharing some of the many, many, many stupid things I heard people say while at the House of Mouse.  That would have made for a long post and would have included wondrous statements like “I need to return these socks, please” (mind you, the guy was taking them off of his own stinky feet as he said it) and “How do I get back to the monorail” (said while standing in a part of Disney World that has no monorail service), but I can’t be sure that she won’t come back home yapping about how some ignorant Disney Cast Member refused to help her find the Tweety Bird t-shirts.  In the interest of not pissing off the ones I love, I figured I better not go there.

So, I’m left with nothing.  My funny has been sucked dry and I’ve got nothing worthy of this blog.  Good thing AFF will be back in a flash.

Sorry that I suck, AFF, and WELCOME BACK!  (It’s your turn at Scrabulous, by the way.)

21 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized