I have a drinking problem. No wait – that’s not it. It’s a typing problem. My “the”s always come out “teh” and I keep losing Ts to the subsequent word, like when I’m trying to say “about it” or “thought it”, it always comes out like this:
What IS that, a Freudian slip? What is my obsession with tits? Oh sure I’ll catch one now and again and correct it <— including this one right here.
So if you are a blogger and I’ve left a “tit” on your blog somewhere in the comments section, I’d like to apologize right here and now.
Yeah, I’ve probably dropped some “tits” everywhere. How embarrassing, the thought of leaving them stranded like that out in the blogosphere. I’ve been typing since high school, when I had a typing class – boy THAT class sucked big you-know-whats. The teacher was awful. Here’s how awful she was: It was a TYPING class and the VALEDICTORIAN of our class couldn’t get an A out of her, virtually smudging his perfect 4.0 (except we had these things called AP classes whose grades counted one point higher than a normal class, and I’m sure he got As in those and thereby graduated with more than a 4.0, which should theoretically be impossible, but since when does any school district run on logic?)
So this “tit” thing. Does it somehow imply that I’m a sex addict, like Russell Brand? Or Bill Clinton? Or, whatever the female equivalent of that would be? Samantha Jones, I suppose.
Or maybe it’s less disturbing than that and I’m merely dyslexic. Because I also often type “your” as “yoru”, and you’ll also notice that my “tits” are actually formed by swapping the “t” and the space, right? Right?
Hey, did you hear the one about the dyslexic who walked into a bra?
So anyway, with my previous post eluding to Megan Fox’s upper quadrant and now this, one might think my blog has taken on a new theme. That’s right – It’s Boobs Week at Nanny Goats in Panties. Tune in next week when we’ll hear Nanny Goats say: “So I was in Stockholm the other day with Olga, the Traveling Bra…”
All right, this ends our show for today, thank you for coming. Exit doors are on the right. Also, for the men, we have forehead-dabbing cloths on the tables out in the hallway to help you recover from all this “tit talk”. For those needing further assistance, you will find cold shower accomodations down the hall – just follow the signs. Please leave in an orderly fashion and you may now turn your cell phones back on. And don’t forget to stop at the gift shop counter on your way out for your free key chain or whatever crap they’re giving away out there.
Ta ta! (or is that Tatas?) Sorry, okay, I’m really done with that now.
One of my blogbuds, Cheri, of Insignificant Ramblings was at the Sequoia Zoo, up in Eureka, California, where the goats have issues. Like this guy, who thinks he is a flamingo.
Or a drumstick.
