So I get this phone call last night:
OLDEST DAUGHTER: "Are you coming home to eat?"
ME: "I work a bit late on Tuesday...why?"
OLDEST DAUGHTER: "Is Mom cooking you?"
ME: "No. Your Mother is not cooking me."
OLDEST DAUGHTER: "Is Mom cooking FOR you?"
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Point of today's post? I've had the title 'Pepper my bottom and call me Bunsie' locked in my head for a while and wasn't sure how I'd ever use it. It somehow seemed to fit today's post.
A little.
Kinda.
14 comments:
Mmmm, roasted Republican with a side of mashed potatoes.
But Cake, they're bitter.
Frankly, I relish that you've mustard up the hots to use this fine title.
Oh no, Sparkle...you do NOT wanna go there. I got the onions to ketchup to any puns you wanna a-salt us with. And once I start, thyme just gets away from me and I can't stop.
(See?)
Oregano.
Paprika.
Basil off, wouldja, Uncle Unclear?
Dear Rosemary and Ginger,
I don't have thyme for this salty blog.
God, this place is just peppered with puns today...
- All You Need is Cloves
- Butter Butter Me Do
- Happiness is a Warm Bun
- Eight Helpings a Week
- Ob-la-yum, Ob-la-yum
- I Want to Hold Your Ham
(I'm hungry.)
Eat me
I ate the sun.
The chair is my sun.
I'm hungry.
What kinda condiments go with the Sun?
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