I responded,
Bill: “I’m going to get myself donated up? What does that mean?”
Judy: “I don’t know. YOU said it.”
B: “Well, what did you say?”
J: “I’m talking to myself. Don’t interrupt.”
B “Oh.”
Finally, after 67 years, I have met my match in the kitchen. Out of respect for my friend’s family, I will not give his name.
How do I know that he is my culinary equal?
I’ll tell you…
Judy: “What did you guys have for dinner at the meeting tonight?”
Bill: “Lasagnsicles.”
J: “What’s that?”
B: “It’s frozen lasagna that you are supposed to cook for two hours at 350 degrees that you only cook for forty-five minutes in an oven that’s not turned on.”
And that, dear friends, is how I know that I have met my culinary equal.
You never fully appreciate clean underwear until the day after you take ExLax the night before a long hike in Yosemite… – The Very William H. Kammerer, Jr. Esq. (not,)
(*And to answer your question: No. But it was close.)
Things With Six Strings 