My sister just went to a wedding where they served fruitcake. That’s not right. Who serves fruitcake? Who likes fruitcake? Are you telling me that the bride and groom chose fruitcake to symbolize their [dessert] love? You don’t do that. As Johnny Carson used to say, there’s only one fruitcake in the world and it keeps getting passed from family to family. I wonder if it was a gift. You know how some people will inevitably complain if there’s only yellow cake or like, red velvet at a wedding? What kind of response were they expecting by serving a “cake” enjoyed by less than four percent of the populace? (I just made up that number.) They should have been stopped. I’ve been married enough (once) to know that the bride and groom can easily be stopped.
And this part is for my mother. (Feel free to keep reading, but I guarantee you won’t find this as entertaining as my Mom undoubtedly will.)
And there you have it. Revved up like a DEUCE, and not that other noun which I hope we never have occasion to say to one another again, on the phone or otherwise.
Would you like to see some common misheard interpretations of that line? A few gems:
Racked up like moose that’s been run over in the night…
Wrapped up like a dude, sha na na reuben in delight…
Wracked up by the goosin’ and the runnin’ in the night…
Caught up by the juice bar in the middle of the night…
You are so welcome.
Tonight I’m going to a Korean dive bar up in Andersonville for a karaoke birthday party! Tomorrow I may head over to the Old Town Art Fair. Hey! Chicago Social should link up to my blog, you know, for things to do about town! They do that, right? I’ve never actually read Chicago Social. I won’t let that stop me.
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