There once was a fellow named Larry,
Who, when asked if he’s happy, says, “Very!”
After many a year,
His old high school dear,
Has accepted his offer to marry.
==
Larry is one of my favorite guys here at Bock Marine, and he’s just returned from his honeymoon. Congratulations to the new couple!
I have offered the white bunny suit,
A bite of some nice, tasty fruit,
But in order to grind,
His whole mouth is behind,
Plexiglass, so the question is moot.
===
Says Barry, “I love my 3M 6800 respirator!”
We’re stuck in the library here,
The problem is liquid, I fear.
It’s raining like cats
And dogs. We’ve no hats,
So we’ll just have to read ’til it’s clear.
“They tell me,” said good Doctor Freud,
“You’re becoming a bit paranoid,”
“You worry and weep,
“You wail in your sleep,
“That you’ve left a huge fiberglass void.”
It’s true, I’ve become obsessed. I lay awake at night, wondering if the layup I’ve just done will be acceptable to Barry, the Grinding Man. If it’s not, he grinds it out and I try again. Working in a space that’s only a couple of feet wide and a couple of feet high, trying to get the stuff to adhere to surfaces above my head, wearing a respirator and full Tyvek bunny suit, with temperatures over 90, is like working in hell. I must be crazy, but I think it’s worth it.
I am wishing this heat wave would end,
But my far-flung friends don’t comprehend.
Candy says, “Chile’s chilly!”
Nita says, “Fifties, really!”
So I’ll just attach heat and click SEND.
We had to flee the melting heat, so we ducked into an air-conditioned library. While there, two emails came in, one from South America and one from Seattle. Both were complaining about how cold it is, and despite glares from the librarians, we couldn’t stop laughing.
While buying some liquor and ice,
They check his ID once — no, twice.
It says forty-one
Years under the sun,
But he looks ten years younger: How nice!
It took four strong men and a crane
To lift out our mizzen and main,
While the girl with red hair
Sat in a green chair,
And worried her poor self insane.
Our new composting head’s a light blue,
And has litter, not water, it’s true.
There’s no need to make haste,
As I bury my waste,
I now say “meee-ow” when I poo.
For more info, visit the Nature’s head website. The litter is actually peat moss, which sure looks like dirt to me.
Here’s a guest submission from my brilliant friend Tara:
To Arkansas went Henry’s daughter,
So she could swim nude in hot water.
But if there is a crowd
Then it won’t be allowed
‘Cause they’ll see things that they shouldn’t oughter!
Oh, there once was a fellow named Bill,
And he thought being Prez was a thrill.
So he saved every note,
That his staff ever wrote,
Which now poses a problem for Hill.