"Hey, d'you wanna hear a joke?" said the

  • "Hey, d'you wanna hear a joke?" said the excitable middle aged man. "I made it up myself.". "Sure." I said. "Okay!" He coughed. "What did one olive say to the other olive?".

  • "Green or black olives?" I interrupted. "Doesn't matter, now what did the one olive say to...""Where they in a jar or can?" "CAN! DOESN'T MATTER, now listen...""Imported?"

  • All I deal with are Olive nitwits. Fools who care about the most irrelevant details about olives. Surrounded by ignorance I lose myself in Olivity. The most important thing to

  • do was educate these people about other cocktail fixins. Celery sticks? Little umbrellas? Pineapple tops? The world is your olive, er...oyster here. Olives are gross, they look

  • like the inside of my pants after my recent trip to Brazil from where I planed ten rare iguanas in my underwear in order to sneak them through customs. These iguanas were rare

  • and large and needed to stay wet so their skin wouldn't dry out. What a challenge finding rubber pants was in Brazil protecting them and providing stretch

  • Any time I find myself in a Brazilian rubber pants predicament, I know there is one person I can count on, but with such short notice and I even doubt his miracle working skills

  • with the massage oils. I heard once that toothpaste and bananas could make sense in this situation because

  • every good banana knows that if you bookend your days with brushing your teeth (fangies), that's two points to having a handle on the day! The massage oils spilled now, spelling

  • the words "YOU SUCK" in ghostly traces on the bathroom floor. And that's when I knew I'd hit the bong just a little too hard.



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