Try It. I Dare You.
Make a dirty syllepsis.
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Comments
The comments to this entry are closed.
I'm thinking. I'm thinking. Don't rush me.
Posted by: Ana | April 03, 2005 at 03:11 PM
Surely our male contributors could come up with something related to nailing or banging.
Posted by: gail | April 03, 2005 at 04:22 PM
He laid the carpet and the parson's wife--all in a day's work for. . . The Handy-Man.
Posted by: gail | April 03, 2005 at 05:26 PM
I'm fed up with steak and the songs on the radio.
Posted by: Attila Girl | April 04, 2005 at 02:38 AM
Oh. It was supposed to be dirty. I'll get back to you then, okay? Don't run out of patience, or on me.
Posted by: Attila Girl | April 04, 2005 at 02:39 AM
Nice one, Attila Girl. And a throwaway at the end!
Posted by: gail | April 04, 2005 at 07:11 AM
He ate his date and his dinner on the same table, though only one gave him indigestion.
Posted by: Jake | April 04, 2005 at 03:46 PM
Aaaiiyyee carumba, that was a spicy taco.
Posted by: Jake | April 04, 2005 at 03:49 PM
She cooked his dinner and then his goose.
Posted by: gail | April 04, 2005 at 06:53 PM
I know,that one wasn't dirty, but Jake's was dirty enough for both of us.
Posted by: gail | April 04, 2005 at 06:54 PM
A poem inspired by Jake's syllepsis:
Because it was late,
He hurried and ate
His dinner and date
On the very same plate.
Posted by: gail | April 04, 2005 at 08:23 PM
My wife is angry because I came late to dinner and early in bed.
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