- Joined
- Mar 8, 1999
- Messages
- 8,911
The Monkey Business thread is getting too long, so I thought I'd start a new one by asking you the following Uncle Bill:
If you do a lot of yakking, and add a bunch of bull, is it true that you end up with zomo any way you slice it ( obligatory knife reference )? And how does one slice zomo anyway? Maybe Yangdu can swap recipes.
PS - if you still haven't decided to take that time off, remember that I can keep up this kind of "pun"ishness indefinitely.
As you might have guessed, it's been a long day and my mind never came back from being out to lunch.
Edit note: have realized that my use of poor English in the subject line was inappropriate in a forum where several participants have English as a second or third language. Where that's the case, I'm envious you speak any English at all. The usage of poor English was meant to poke fun at myself and those ancestors of mine that weren't able to cover up the family skeletons deep enough.
Where I grew up in California's Central Valley, you never told an ethnic joke over the phone - everyone had party lines. You instead jumped in the car to see how many times you could tell it as a polish, greek, italian, portuguese, mexican, irish, etc joke before they saw you coming and told it to you as a hungarian ( one of my ethnicities ) joke.
[This message has been edited by Rusty (edited 13 July 1999).]
If you do a lot of yakking, and add a bunch of bull, is it true that you end up with zomo any way you slice it ( obligatory knife reference )? And how does one slice zomo anyway? Maybe Yangdu can swap recipes.
PS - if you still haven't decided to take that time off, remember that I can keep up this kind of "pun"ishness indefinitely.
As you might have guessed, it's been a long day and my mind never came back from being out to lunch.
Edit note: have realized that my use of poor English in the subject line was inappropriate in a forum where several participants have English as a second or third language. Where that's the case, I'm envious you speak any English at all. The usage of poor English was meant to poke fun at myself and those ancestors of mine that weren't able to cover up the family skeletons deep enough.
Where I grew up in California's Central Valley, you never told an ethnic joke over the phone - everyone had party lines. You instead jumped in the car to see how many times you could tell it as a polish, greek, italian, portuguese, mexican, irish, etc joke before they saw you coming and told it to you as a hungarian ( one of my ethnicities ) joke.
[This message has been edited by Rusty (edited 13 July 1999).]