lieu: I’d rather eat the rancid salad dressing. :yuk:
Scablet: in point of fact, that’s what I did, but it wouldn’t have been conducive to the anguished-howl-of-outrage tone of the OP to say so. Although I’d run out of pumpernickel croutons!!!
Fenris
Yeah, it’s like if Devo made a dressing.
Salvaged scablet salad! with unspoilt dressing!
Hola!
Another stupid pothead pretending to be intellectual.
Fenris, please tell me what your smoking, or I will get the angry fork to stab you in the heart until you are dead. Also, quit with the fuckwad poetry.
SENOR
Fenris, maybe you should clean out your shelves a little more often.
Not that I should talk; I’ve got stuff on my basement shelves that may date back to the early 90s myself.
That’s poetry? It didn’t rhyne.
I like my iceberg lettuce with a dollop of the ol’ Hidden Valley Ranch.
Anybody who can’t appreciate a good basic salad like that is a Communist pervert, if you ask me.
Oh, hell. Humble Servant beat me too it.
I am the very essence of “square.” sigh
I saw the best outer leaves of my Iceberg rot.
So I fed them to the dog.
“Throw me into the quicksand
Beat me with armadillo tails
Let me be eaten by starving baby elephants
If I can’t have you”
This thread brought to you by Moloch’s Creamy Italian Salad Dressing.
Bwah-hahaha!
Fenris, “getting” your OP made my entire English minor in college worthwhile. And that’s saying a lot.
Anything can be
enhanced with a William
Carlos Williams parody,
I've found. He's just so
parodiable.
Hey, it’s more important to be right than original.
In fact, I’ll let you have the iceberg line; I’ll do meat and potatoes instead.
I go out to eat. [A]
I tell my waiter: **
A slab of rare meat [A]
And a nice baked tater. **
Notice how each line has five syllables? See how the final word in the first line and the third line rhyme? How the final word in the second and fourth line rhyme? That’s not so hard, is it?
Or, be like Fenris and wallow in dressing and sexual innuendo for all I care.
so much depends
upon
a red
tomato
glazed with ranch
dressing
beside the green
lettuce
I think that I shall never see
A poem as tasty as one by thee!
Thank you, Fenris!
Patty
The Bowl Not Eaten (with apologies to the late R.F.)
two tines diverged on a silver fork,
and joyful that I could use them both,
with just one aperture, long I ate,
and shoving it down as fast as I could,
To where it bent in my large intestine.
Y’know, I was surpised to see this pop back up, but it was worth it: I missed this post first time around. All I gotta say isL
Bwah-hahaha!
Thanks betenoir!
I ate a jar of salad dressing in Tennessee,
And ranch it was, upon a bolus of lettuce.
It made my slovenly gastric juices
Surround that lettuce.
My gorge rose up to it
And growled around, no longer mild.
The jar of salad dressing was stable on the table
And tall and of a stink in air.
It took dominion all over me.
My face went gray, and there…
I did not give of crouton or sprout,
But made it to the john. In Tennessee.
[sub]Yes, I can hear Wallace Stevens spinning in his grave. But I was feeling left out.[/sub]
Have the salads stopped screaming, Clarice?
/Evita voice/
Don’t pour that stuff on my salad.
Because then I just can’t eat it.
All of those wild greens
And red tomatoes.
I just can’t eat it.
With all that dressing.
I’ll eat too much
And all that dressing isn’t good for you.
Because it’s not low calorie.
And it’s expired, too…