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Fortune Cookie

I like my coffee like I like my women: tied up in a burlap bag and dragged through the Andes.

 
 

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About This Blog

If you're looking for the secret to life, you're not likely to find it here. Now my life? That's a different story, one told here in mind-numbingly verbose detail...

 
 

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Worst. Storylines. Ever.   Comments

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From the Keepers of Lists, here’s a few lines for you to use, if you’re looking for something to write about. I’ve picked out a few of my favorites.

  • She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
  • He was sharp, able to tell butter from “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter”
  • The sun rose over the horizon like a great big radioactive baby’s head
  • It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
  • He wanted to hold her forever, knowing eventually he’d have to take a whizz
  • The sea raged, the wind howled, and the sand was just plain irritated.
  • The thunder sounded like a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage

And of course, the best way to start a mystery novella ever:

It was a dark and stormy night. It was the butler.

Enjoy, I always do.

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