Friday, December 30, 2011

Found on Fridge

This is part of a new installment I am calling "Found on Fridge". I'm pretty sure my fridge, Ethel, is coming on to me. I figure it's cause I'm always up in that.
I know you're hungry, girl, but seriously - no. No matter how much they get on my nerves.

I know, Ethel. But you're just so cold on the inside...

I'm not ready for that step in our relationship.

I would, but I'm AD/HD, and YOU SPELLED MY NAME WRONG, Ethel.

I'm not sure what this has to do with anything, but try giving THAT a Brazilian...

Now you're speaking my language, you big cold box you.

Does Greybeard have to choke a Fridge?!

Because live is the only way I take my fur bowl, thank you very much.

Why thank you, Ethel! Meow get me a cold beer.

I - what? Look, Ethel, I love you and all, but - your indecisiveness on verbiage is a major turn-off. 


Just like an icepick.

Ethel, you just so DIRTY!

As can be evidenced by your previous messages...

Yeah, Grace. Jesus. The poor thing looks dehydrated and mangy... 

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