Happy Ginger day Chumlies!
Golly, I love his humps, his humps, his lovely ginger humps.
Oh Gingerday, here you are again. What a strange day you are Gingerday, without the drink and the going out and the counting down and stuff. I just don't know what to make of you. Neither does Smurf. He fears he may have to take his children out of the private school my weekend takings were paying for and he's down to his last ruby tooth.
But as I am a little trouper, I feel duty bound to wish others a happy hooch filled Ginger day. I hope that they go out and drink and laugh and tee-hee and wake up tomorrow feeling less sprightly than I will be feeling because you see Gingerday, that's the only grenade I have left in my arsenal- I might feel slightly better than some folk tomorrow morning.
Another reason for my befuddlement Ginger day, is that it has come to my attention that be-gingered stud and flaming love muffin Carrot Top might not be the au natural ambrosia as I had once thought. Now naturally I fought against this outrageous slur on my moist making rectangle Adonis, but then someone, who shall remain nameless -but you know who he is Ginger day and if you felt like doing a spot of karmic kicking I wouldn't let on I knew anything about it, a few ginger hairs visibly here and visibly there on that peerless booby should be enough to push him over the edge- sent me the above photos, and on deep and naked inspection I am irked to find he might be on to something.
Of course it could just be the camera.
Yes, that's it.
The camera. Everyone knows it adds, stuff.
Have a nice weekend drinkers and everyone else.
Labels: The camera ALWAYS lies.