Ten for Thursday

That makes me happier than a bowl of pancakes.

If I were to describe you, the list of words I'd use would be long and repetitive.

My boys were screaming in the other room. I couldn't decipher most of the words, but I was pretty sure I heard "bleeding."
Me: Who's bleeding?
Justin: Nobody! Except for Josh and Scooter.

Two awful jokes I came up with for the boys:
What's Braveheart's favorite snack food? FRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITOOOOOOS!
What do you call a bovine drummer? Cowabongo!

Irish people are from Ireland. Scottish people are from Scotland. Why is there no "Jewland?"

Through minutes of research, I have concluded there is no substitute for a dog. Then again, if your class is being taught by a dog and it gets sick, it's probably best to take the day off.

Someday, I hope to look back at this blog and laugh. Until then, I intend to look forward at this blog and sigh.

Games for prostitutes' children to play: Red Light District/Green Light.

Every time you hear a bell, an angel gets its wings. Cell phone ring tones don't count.

What did you do if your Christmas tree was too fat to squeeze into the front trunk of your 1975 VW Bug? There's a joke in here somewhere, but it's outdated, confusing, and no less funny than anything else I've written today.