Yes. Everyone else’s granny used whiskey.
There are going to do a 2012 remake of that, played by Ricky Martin.
It will be Batman vs the Purloiner of Peppers and his Habbanero Henchmen.
Well duh…
When they tried using that phrase…well…it went over just like taking Tabasco from a baby dont cha know…
Really. WTH? Tabasco to soothe pain? Whiskey is where it’s at.
That baby’s a pretty cool guy. eh grabs the tabasco and doesn’t let go or anything.
So if you see a baby with tabasco sauce and you can’t do anything to stop them hurting themselves, do you shoot them first or fire a warning shot to let them know you’re serious?
I really hope that’s not a cutesy word for “penis.”
I punch ‘em in the chest. But first I kneel down to their level, so I’m not so intimidating. Also, it makes the punchin’ easier.
Nah, binky means pacifier.
Or, well, this if you grew up in the 90s.
Hey, quick Q. Is this not the best thread title you’ve seen in a while?
“Yes,” he replied, ambiguously.
And if you don’t like that explanation you can suck my dear old granny.
Nope.
Had I been the casual observer, I would have assumed that you were both deaf and blind because you had not corrected your child from jumping on a couch in a public place. I, too, would have performed the public service (for everyone else in the waiting room) of correcting your kid for you. You were obviously not going to do it yourself.
[/sarcasm]
IMO, nobody should have had to say anything to you. You should have stopped your kid from misbehaving in public in the first place. Kid jumping on couch = totally on you.
Let’s be fair: it’s not Frylock’s fault if his kid is really, *really *in love with Katie Holmes.
The sarcasm tag confused me as to your intent, so I’ll just say: When you don’t like what a kid is doing, please talk to the parents if they’re around, and please don’t touch the kid.
The kid wasn’t misbehaving in public.
I know I know!
Are you insinuating infidelity?
I don’t want to touch your kid. I don’t know where it’s been.
Yeah yeah, you owned the office, the couch, and even the dude who grabbed your kid’s arm. He’s your slave, sold to you in excange for a broken bottle of tabasco sauce. We know the drill.
Actually it was me jumping on the couch. And the old guy was, in fact, Sir Ian McKellan. (Kiddo was mainlining the tobasco, which didn’t seem to bother Sir Ian at all.)
Don’t you all feel like douches now?
ETA: I didn’t own the couch and room so much as I pwned them.
A-muthafuckin’-MEN!
Horseshit.
Yeah, but he’s creeping Oprah out. And she’s friends with fucking Dr. Phil, so that should give you some idea of what a challenge that is.