Yes, Jameson, it IS too bad the internet doesn't have an eraser!

Righto then.....

I'll roust up my chooks off their sick beds and polish up their little tap shoes....that oughta do the trick......

 

Aw, come on you gutter gossips, don't scare my old buddy Zot! She knows I'd never hurt one little straggle of hair on her head! No way she could know, is there? She's seen me in so many disguises through the years, she must have just thought it was another one. The one where I look like a narcissistic, callous, name-dropping self-promoter who couldn't think my way out of an empty closet....

Hmmmm Where did I put that phone number for the retired chooks with guns squad...?

:kmg:

 

Aw, no need, Zotto, let your little feathered friends rest. Tap dancing ain't going to do it this time, dearie. It's not the same without RTE's talented vocal accompaniment, is it?

No, if you really want to make it up to me...I'll think of something.... BIG.

Thinking...thinking....

 

Ok

I'll take the deeds to your house, complete with new sun room....that'll be a huge burden off your shoulders....

 

Only if you promise to take hubby AND his laundry, too! :yay:

 

Ah me....dear KK's hubby....

He's such a sweetheart....why, he built that little barn refuge for me as quick as a wink......

But sigh....regretfully I couldn't do it to you KK...a diva NEEDS that strong male arm to hang on to for all those Gutterwood awards nights.....

 

Lies and slander!!! Your freaky chickens were on their last toe-tappin' legs before I ever got there! The only thing chronic about them is their ugliness, and there's no cure for THAT!

Nevermind. I'm going to go sit in Tricia's shopping cart and pout. *sniff*

At least it doesn't smell like Eau de Chook on THAT side of the gutter.

 

I think you meant to say "world famous freaky chickens"....

Fine then....go sit in the cart and pout, you'll just get splinters in your bum from our used cocktail umbrellas.....

 

Now, now, now, KK. It's okay. The "L" word (rhymes with obotomy) doesn't have to scare you like that. Apparently, the operation is a requirement for working in the Boulder DA's office, and THEY are obviously happy with the results. They don't care about a thing.

 

Thanks, Moab, for the tip but I'm thinking something of else right now, and it involves a certain sass-mouth Aussie who is about to be fed a knuckle sandwich right off Tricia's food cart in the sky box! :bigstick:

 

LOL ... no, what I MEANT to say about your ugly-butt-chickens is not allowed on this family friendly forum.

 

OK, fine. No problem. I knew you weren't up to handling a REAL MAN like hubby, just wanted to see you squirm. Everyone knows that "strong male arms" need more tending to than a dozen 2 year olds! But I can handle it another 28 years, 'cause I'm a REAL GUTTER WOMAN!

Darn! Thought I had her there!

Well, I'll just keep thinking about what it's going to take to even the score, then.... Maybe I'll have a raffle, and the winning idea wins hubby AND his laundry AND his national disaster garage.... (good save, moab)

 

Hey, you gotta' point there, Cherokee. Obviously, the song "Don't Worry, Be Happy" was written after observing the BDA gang during a hot tubby party.

But I received a message the other night that the swampsters were a RST program with group lobotomies. The message said that they were duped into having the surgery by their leaders...you-know-who and what's-her-face, who desperately needed people with as few faculties remaining as possible. So they implanted the dreaded RST computer chip during the surgery. The poor souls at the swamp are now programed to repeat whatever they are told by the RST, no logic or reason wanted.

No, I don't think so.... The day I end up like that is the day I hope they'll send me in a capsule to Planet SuRztuN, pronto, for a complete brain transplant!

Thanks for the thought, though, Chero. And don't believe a word about those Zotto Chooks. I know a spy who said Zot was selling them as Super Chooks for breeding purposes, able to lay eggs the size of footballs and out tap dance the Rockettes!

 

Flock Susan Bennett.

 

FIGHT! FIGHT!

OK, pulling up my junk yard chair. Pass the rubbing alcohol, matey! op:

 

:yes: And Her Little Dog, too.......... :yes:

 

Just a thought. Is it raining in charlevoix?

(I just wondered if jameson & candy would be getting wet standing outside the Ramsey home).

 

Sorry, KK, but there's not gonna be a fight. I'm afraid Zotto chickened:chicken: out.