Callyforny (grok grok)
grok grok. My owner called ol’ Garbage Woman jus’ as she was takin’ out th’ trash yesterdy afternoon t’ say that she was crossin’ th’ state line inta Callyforny. grok grok. Whaddever a state line is. grok grok. I mean my owner was crossin’ th’ line, not ol’ Garbage Woman. Ol’ GW was jest wheelin’ th’ ol’ garbage cart down t’ th’ street. grok grok grook.
August 11th, 2006 at 5:06 pm
Hey, Froooooogy! You keep up that kinda jabber, and GW just MAY pitch you either over the State Line OR into the Swamp (along with that ol’ porkypine of lore).
She IS The Commander’s daugher, after all…
August 11th, 2006 at 6:12 pm
Yeah, GW was thinking about pitching him into a swamp or maybe two. She couldn’t quite decide between the swamp behind Gitchee Gumee or the one behind the Houghton Lake Group Home.
August 11th, 2006 at 11:02 pm
Splitting up is hard to do…
You known I haven’t been to Berkley since ’68. Our dentist was there. We were living in Marin then, but we would still make the all day journey across the bay. My Mom is still really big into oral hygiene.
I can still remember those trips. We started off using an original VW Bug. Its’ engine had lost all compression so we all had to lean forward to get over the hills. Subsequent trips involved a ’56 Dodge wagon. Our most memorable dentist appointment involved the Hells Angels. We were in the Dodge, three boys and my Mom. My mom was driving, white knuckled. Meanwhile we three boys bounced from front to back, with faces pressed to the window, while the Hells Angels paraded by.
August 12th, 2006 at 8:43 pm
*sheesh* – dropping “t”s