Short-order cooks in busy restaurants call themselves
'pressure cookers'.
Making up puns about the finest soil is the loess form of
humor.
I wrote a novel about a fellow who had a small garden. It
didn't have much of a plot.
The weigh-in at the Sumo wrestling tournament was a large
scale effort.
The bridegroom got to the church when he was supposed to. He
was at the rite place at the rite time.
The race dogs got a bad case of the fleas - they had to be
scratched.
A relief map shows where the restrooms are.
I was kicked out of math class for one too many infractions.
To disparage the wind is disgusting.
Reading music makes me crotchety
I didn't have the faintest idea as to why I passed out.
My mate swallowed a cordless vacuum cleaner, they took him
to hospital and he is picking up nicely.
There was a sale at the fish market today. I went to see
what was the catch.
I told my wife I thought the electrician had said he'd be
over by noon, unless I got my wires crossed.
The patient decided against an organ transplant. Instead, he
changed his mind.
I finally got rid of that nasty electrical charge I've been
carrying. I'm ex-static!
When asked whether or not I was bilingual, I was about to
say I knew sign language, but I figured it was sort of a mute point.
When the head of the consulting team suggested that the
canal around the castle be filled up with cement, he was demoted.
No comments:
Post a Comment