A man to his female partner:
“How’s your crabbies?”
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Shocking behaviour. That man deserved a slap.
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You won’t believe what he said next about a year-long yeast infection.
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That was an entirely forgivable slip of the tongue, or so I’ve have heard.
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Whatever caused it, it’s not something to discuss in public.
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“What would you do without me? Still have caramel on your tits!”
“Yeh, and not in a good way!”
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The only possible response is ‘Yes please, I’d like another pint’
Crabbie’s Original Alcoholic Ginger Beer. I recommend.
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“North Korea is probably littered with forgotten kimchi vestibules”
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“I just cut myself on a banana.”
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“There are no mistakes in jazz, only bold creative decisions.”
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This may be why I’m not a huge fan of jazz.
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Well, there’s jazz and then there’s jazz…
I like the old jazzy pop standards, stuff from the 20s and 30s like Honeysuckle Rose and It’s Only a Paper Moon, rather than the full-on improvisational stuff you need a doctorate in jazzology from the jazz university of Jazzville to begin to understand and appreciate. Some later stuff puts me in mind of the (probably apocryphal) story of a classical musician who was taken to a Jimi Hendrix concert and, when asked what he thought of it, said, “I wish I could play like that, then I never would.”
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The jazz I like tends to have been written for people to get up and dance to, rather than for them to rub their chins and say “hmm”.
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Jazz literally ruined my dinner last night …
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As I once heard of that style, “they call it Free Jazz because nobody would ever pay for it.”
As calibration, this is from a guy who enjoys New Orleans Rhythm Kings, Glenn Miller and Jelly Roll Morton.
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I really like the Rhythm Kings, but I’ve got to be in the mood for Glenn Miller.
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Exactly, Roger. That’s where it started.
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Is anyone else dying to hear some elaboration?
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Not dying, dying, but would love to hear what happened…
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