As American As Hot Dogs, Apple Pie, and Hondas:
The U.S.A. is Smoking...Less!
Before we go outside the office to have a smoke, we want to tell you that American cigarette sales are at their lowest since 1951. That’s right, only 379 billion smokes were sold in 2005.
A.) Hooray, let’s celebrate—gimme a smoke.
B.) Me, too. And not one from your generic pack either.
C.) I don’t know what you mean…
B.) I can see Marlboros in your sock.
C.) Whoa, how did those get there?
LBE Consumer Alert:
Fights Cavities, Fights Tartar, Falls Apart!
We like Crest Whitening Expressions; it’s why we use it daily. After many months of the French Vanilla flavor, we are now dependent on the Lemon Ice kind. My wife, Christine, and I love it.
There’s nothing quite like the fragrant taste of lemons in the morning, afternoon, and night.
Like gargling with fine dishwater.
But because of our loyalty to all flavors Crest, we demand to know why the hinges on the tube cap are so goddamn flimsy. They break the first time you open the tube.
You buy it, you bring it home, you want to brush away the tuna you et for lunch, you open the new tube, cap breaks off.
They break every fucking time. You think I’m kidding? Try it at home--prove me wrong. I’m telling you those cheap ass plastic cap hinges are useless.
Try to close the tube when the cap is unhinged. Now there’s a new pain in your ass. You have to study the tube's tip and cap to align the broken hinges and snap the cap back on.
I tried to replace the tube’s ugly hat with a good old fashioned screw top cap. No fucking dice—no grooves on the tube’s tiny neck. You’re stuck.
How about Crest in a jar? Open the jar, dip the brush in there, close the jar, brush your teeth--end of story.
Get a grip, Procter & Gamble…or kiss my ass goodbye.
A.) Tough titty for you, pal—I wear dentures.
B.) Squeeze tube from bottom and flatten as you go up? Squeeze this.
C.) I’m an Aquafresh man. No, wait—I forgot I had the surgery—I’m an Aquafresh woman.
Uh Oh--Triple Headline!
Hot Chicks on Parade:
Uma Single Again, Dudes Ecstatic!
A guy in a bar told me it’s over with a capital ‘O” for Uma Thurman and hotel bigshot Andre Balazs.
Too bad for Andre; it’s wonderful news for men that daydream about one day meeting Uma.
Like accidentally at a friend’s party where after a few drinks, she mentions that bastard Andre. I nod sympathetically because ironically, a girl named Andrea broke my heart many years ago.
Uma, you’re beautiful, I tell her…and I look at her and I see Pulp Fiction Uma or Kill Bill Uma--one of those Tarantino flicks, I don’t know--and we drink more drinks, and exchange stories until we’re both laughing, laughing, and laughing…
Laughing because we have so much in common…
Ha, ha, ha, ha……ha, ha, ha……..ha, ha……..ha…
The laughter dies a natural death and turns into a long gaze…the gaze becomes a tender kiss…
I’m gently stroking her buttocks, I have Uma’s ass in my hands--I can’t believe this is happening…I squeeze her buns tighter and grind into her...
She pulls away suddenly…I pushed too far--too much, too soon, damn.
Uma calls me an asshole and runs away.
I decide to leave, and the valet brings my car. I give him a twenty and drive off into the Detroit night.
I call my wife and ask her if she wants anything from 7/Eleven.
I stop and buy myself a Twix bar.
A.) You and Uma? What a beautiful story. Hand me a Kleenex.
B.) You and Uma? Yeah, right. Maybe you and Tarantino.
C.) You and Uma? Aren’t you the guy that fucked a sheep?